Young Aelin in Doranelle
by fireheartmatilda
Summary: We know that Maeve wanted to use Rowan to manipulate Aelin, but what if she had tried using it earlier. What might have been different if five year old Aelin had been brought to Doranelle and met a certain silver haired Fae in the woods? This follows Aelin through her life, and the different twists and turns, and everything that might have happened. Rowaelin, Samlaena, and more...
1. Chapter 1

Aelin kicked the autumn leaves impatiently. Her parents had been so busy since they had arrived in this strange kingdom, always in one meeting or another, talking to the dark haired woman who sat on the big throne, with cruel taunting eyes. At five years, Aelin wanted to spend her days playing in the woods and reading those books her parents had given her, not travelling to all these different places and meeting the haughty royals who looked at her like a chess piece to be used. Naturally, as a small child, Aelin's main thoughts were of her family and hr home and her favourite thoughts and she wanted it to stay that way, she didn't want all of these new pressures.

Jumping into an especially large pile of crunchy brown leaves, Aelin huffed once more, wishing she had someone to play with. They had been in the palace for over a week, and usually she played with Quinn, the Captian of the Guard, who was like family to her, but today he had gone to the meeting with her parents, leaving her with the guards whose main priority was keeping her safe, not playing games. For the millionth time since they'd arrived, Aelin wished her cousin and best friend Aedion had been able to accompany them. She knew that he had wanted to come, but her uncle Orlon had refused. It was warm, for Autumn, and Aelin had spent most of her time in the gardens of the castle, since she realised that she had forgotten most of the children's books that she had packed.

Glancing back at the guards, always a few paces away, Aelin made up her mind. She wanted to have some fun, and wanted to explore without being shepherded by the guards, who she'd never been able to shake since she'd first learned to walk. Luckily, from somewhere in the castle, there came a loud crash, likely something falling over or something, and Aelin used the momentary distraction of the guards to dart into the small patch of trees, grabbing a low branch and supressing her giggles as she heard the small gasps of her guards. This was fun, almost like hide and seek. Almost losing her balance from where she perched on one of the branches, Aelin gripped one of the stronger twigs, and looked at the small drop below her. Logically, it wouldn't hurt her, but as a five year old, it seemed like a very long way. Still, she wouldn't be deterred, and settled herself into the tree, aware that her guards had vanished, likely looking for her in all the wrong places.

A few moments passed, and Aelin was just starting to feel bored when a ripe green apple caught her eye, just out of reach. Licking her lips and feeling her stomach growl, despite her large breakfast just an hour previously. Leaning for the apple, Aelin held the branch with one hand and stretched her small arm out as far as she possibly could. Her fingers grazed the cold exterior of the apple, and triumph lit up the young princess' eyes, and she would have grabbed it right then, had she not been interrupted by voices beneath her. Stilling and holding her breath, Aelin waited for what she guessed were guards to pass, but when the deep voices approached closer, Aelin frowned. The first voice sounded almost familiar, but she couldn't place it.

"Come on, brother. You know better than to question Maeve's motives." Aelin's teeth clenched at the queen's name, but she didn't know why. The voice was gentle and kind, but the one that followed it was what made Aelin start.

"Yes, but them. We have no need of their alliance, and our only threat is the child." The voice was like a song, and it was what Aelin thought the voice in her head sounded like. It was an answer to a question that she hadn't even asked yet, and something about it made her smile. Her smile faded however as she heard his next words. "Why bring Evalin and Rhoe Galathnius to Doranelle, and why not tell us that she was going to?" Aelin couldn't hold in her gasp; those were her parents, why was the man with the magical voice talking about her parents? Shocked, Aelin lost her grip on the branch beneath her and with a short thump fell to the ground below, felling the scratches of the twigs and leaves as she did so.

Thudding to the ground, a dazed princess sat on the grass of the clearing she was now in. Parts of her hurt, and she might have cried had she not checked to see what was causing a shadow over her. Two large Fae warriors stood side by side, staring down at the princess with their mouths hanging open, and it was their presence that caused Aelin to scramble to her feet and stare them down, frowning. Both males were tall and well built, and their expressions seemed to mirror each other at the moment. Unable to help herself, Aelin began to laugh, more of a bellow, her father's laugh. They just looked more astounded and this made her laugh harder, they looked like fish standing with their mouths open like that. Forgetting all about the conversation the males had just been having, Aelin laughed and laughed until their expressions finally returned to normal. Then, she wiped a tear from her eyes and failed to rub some of the dirt off of her dress.

No-one said anything, until Aelin once more met their gazes.

"Who are you?" The blonde one said, his voice gentle and soft, like the first one she had heard. Fully taking in his features now that he no longer seemed stunned, Aelin frowned, not answering his question.

"Let's say I'm a fallen angel." Her words were thoughtful, and she almost laughed at herself. Teressan's court had always said she had a unique sense of humour, and now she could put it to use on these fascinating Fae. "Who are you?" Her voice was defensive, but she was really interested. She had never met anyone like them before, not in Teressan, or anywhere else she had visited. The blonde one spoke again.

"I am Gavriel, and this is Rowan," he explained referring to his friend, who remained stunned, looking like her had been shot. She was on the verge of asking of he was ok, when Gavriel continued. "What were you doing falling out of that tree? Who are you?" She once more ignored the later question, enjoying herself far too much now. Aprroaching the warrior, she continued absent-mindedly.

"I told you, I wasn't in a tree, I fell from heaven." Reaching up and gripping a piece of the long blonde hair, Aelin looked deeply into the eyes of Gavriel. "You look just like my cousin." That was what seemed familiar about him she realised. His face hardened and his brows furrowed in confusion, as he stepped away from the little girl. She too frown, she hadn't meant to upset him, it had just been an observation. About to say so, Aelin was cut off by the other male. Rowan, Gavriel had called him.

"Who's your cousin?" She grinned, unable to help herself, at the sound of his voice, and at the weird pull she had towards him. Maybe now she would have someone to play with whilst she was here. Meeting his pine green eyes, Aelin wandered towards him.

"My cousin looks just like me, except not quite as pretty, and he is a few years older. He is teaching me to fight." She said the last bit triumphantly, proud to establish herself as a warrior amongst these soldiers. It had been the right thing to say, because the silver haired one smiled down at her openly.

"Is that so?" She nodded vigorously, and smiled again. "What are you doing in the palace gardens?" That was good, she thought, then he must not know who she was.

"As I told your brother, I wasn't in the gardens, I fell from heaven."

"Oh, of course. I forgot." He added with a cheeky smile and a small wink that made her giggle. "And why were you falling from heaven?" His question reminded her of her loneliness before she had climbed into the tree, and she wished once more that Aedion were here to meet these funny men with her. The blonde one was now gaping at his brother, but she didn't mind. She had a weird urge to talk to Rowan anyway, wanted to be friends with him. Her expression clouded.

"I was looking for someone to play with." Her words were quieter now, and began to kick up the leaves beneath her feet once more. Rowan continued, his voice softer.

"Why can't your cousin play with you?" Aelin shrugged, but something in his voice made her want to answer him.

"He's very far away, and I might not see him or play with him for a while." She supressed the tears collecting in her eyes now, but they vanished when Rowan sat down on the ground in front of her, his legs crossed and hands playing with the leaves.

'Maybe, one day, I can play with you?" Smiling once more, Aelin nodded and handed him the prettiest leaf she could find.

"We're friends now." The confidence with which she said it made Rowan chortle, and the sound was the most beautiful thing Aelin had ever heard. "Maybe, one day, if my cousin comes here, Aedion can play with us too." Aelin said, hunting for more leaves, but still noticing Rowan tense up, and Gavriel's short gasp. "What?"

It was at that moment that voices came close to the clearing, but Aelin made no move towards them, wanting to know what had made her companions freeze. Still, when Quinn emerged from the small cluster of trees and into the clearing, where he eyes the two Fae males and his princess, Aelin smiled and waved. Quinn strode over and knelt beside Aelin.

"We have to go now, Princess. Your parents are worried about you." Aelin frowned, wanting to stay with her friends, but after a second her expression cleared, and she stood, whilst Rowan remained frozen on the floor, looking up at her, his eyes not leaving her face.

"Quinn, these are my new friends, Gavriel and Rowan." His name sounded beautiful on her lips. "This is Quinn, my uncle's Captain of the Guard, and my other friends who sometimes plays with me in the gardens." She beamed between the three males, but their expression remained unchanged, until Quinn's eyes settled on Rowan, and his face turned outraged.

"Aelin, come on, we have to go." He took her hand in his, and waited for her to walk out of the clearing with him.

"Oh, can I have a piggy back. I cut my knee when I fell from the tree." She had almost forgotten about it until now, but Quinn obediently bent down and let her clamour onto his back, before striding off. Quinn was like an uncle to her, and though she knew she could be annoying, she knew that he loved her. Clutching to her friend with one arm, Aelin waved to the pair in the clearing with the other, calling over her shoulder. "It was nice to meet you. I can't wait to play together." Then she turned back, burying her head in Quinn's neck, tired from her morning adventures. Still, she wondered why both Gavriel and Rowan had looked quite so stunned. Yes, she was the princess of Teressan, but that couldn't be it. Maybe she would ask the next time she saw them.

When Aelin arrived back at her rooms, she was still thinking about the male with the silver hair. She didn't know why, but she felt like she knew him already, like she could tell him anything, like he would be her friend forever. Practically skipping down the corridor, Aelin dragged along an unusually quiet Quinn, who disappeared as soon as they reached her rooms, leaving her with the guards and claiming that he had some urgent news to present at the mysterious meeting that was occurring. Her thoughts were too far away to be put out though, and her mind remained in the clearing she had met Rowan in. She wondered what his position was in the castle, and why he had looked so shocked when he found out who she really was, since she doubted he really believed she was a fallen angel. Would he not play with her if she was a princess. Aelin frowned and settled into the corner of her room staring out of the window. She would make it her mission to find Rowan again and demand what was wrong. After all, she had nothing better to do whilst they were here and there was something about him.

Later that night, as Aelin snuggled into the covers that felt wrong and unfamiliar. This whole stone palace felt wrong, and Aelin longed for her home Teressan. The door creaked open and her father perched on the side of her bed, a small candle illuminating the room and his kind, but tired features. He smoothed her hair and she smiled up at him, but his face remained troubled. "What is it, papa?" His frown remained, but his eyes sparkled at the concern in his daughter's voice.

"Nothing, my darling." She frowned at him, now, demanding a proper answer. "This trip is taking a lot out of me, and your mother too." Her confusion was only growing.

"Why, papa?" He chuckled at the command in her voice, to be included, as though being let in on a special secret.

"There are delicate matters concerning Maeve, dearest. Concerning you too." He continued to smooth her hair as he explained, and she leaned into the warmth of his touch. "You have a very powerful magic within you, Aelin, and some people in the world will view you as a threat." Aelin flinched at the words.

"I wouldn't hurt anyone." Her words were quiet, but Rhoe knew them already.

"I know that, but some people don't. And some people, like Queen Maeve want to use your power for themselves, to train you and make you their weapon." Aelin didn't like the thought of that at all. She was her own self, she belonged to her kingdom and her family, and no one else. Rhoe's hushed voice suggested his agreement with his daughter.

"Why don't we just say no? Say no and leave Doranelle, go home." Rhoe sighed and looked at the candle flickering, sending beautiful shadows licking up the walls. Like many children, Aelin hated the dark, but she had the power to defeat it. Her innocent smile, and clear mind made Rhoe send a warm smile down to the princess.

"It's more complicated than that, my darling. Don't you fret over it, you'll understand it all one day. Until then, you should put it out of your mind." Tucking up the sheets, Rhoe made to leave the room, but Aelin spoke once more.

"I met a very nice male today in the gardens. We're going to be friends. He has very pretty hair and nice green eyes. You should meet him, papa. Maybe you could be friends as well." She smiled at the thought, but then her smile faded. She didn't want to share Rowan with anyone. Luckily, her father didn't seem too keen on the idea, anyway. He stiffened and clenched his jaw.

"You met this male in the gardens? You're going to be friends?" Not understanding his cold tone, Aelin simply nodded and rolled onto her side.

"Yes, he's called Rowan." The very name brought a smile to her lips, and her father watched her grin.

"I'm glad you have a new friend, my brave Aelin. Now sleep well. Soon, we will be home in Teressan." He planted a soft kiss on her forehead, and quickly exited the room. Drifting to sleep, Aelin's last thoughts were of the pine green eyes that reminded her of home.

Rhoe paced in his room that sat across from his daughter's. Evalin, his beloved wife, sat on the bed, her troubled expression mirrored in the face of her husband.

"She met him, then. She met her mate." Evalin's words were slow, and thoughtful, as though she were trying to figure out a puzzle. Watching her husband frantically pacing across the large rug, she bit her lip. "Does she know who he is?" Shaking his head, Rhoe paused, closing his eyes.

"No, no she doesn't." It sounded almost like defeat, and Evalin came to stand beside him, holding his own large hands in her own. There had been a time when he thought that they could get through anything as long as they were together, but now with Aelin and Maeve…He missed the days when it had all been easier than this, though he would give up anything, any ease and happiness, if it kept his daughter safe and happy. She was like a bright light that guided him through, and he loved her and her mother more than he ever thought it possible to love anyone. Looking deep into the Ashryver eyes of his wife, Rhoe searched for the answer. "She's only five years old, Ev. She barely knows what a mate is, and now she has to give up everything to save hers. It isn't fair." The words he spoke was the truth that they had both known since the first glimmers of her power as a baby. Maeve hadn't told them why they were to come and see her, only that if they didn't they would regret it. Fearing war, the pair had come to Doranelle, along with the Captain of the Guard and their daughter, but what they had learned when they had arrived was worse. Maeve had taken a special interest in their Aelin, which was not unexpected, but they hadn't known what she had held over them. For years, she had been waiting for this opportunity, and now they dangled the mate of their only child over their heads like bait. How could they take away that chance at true happiness from their daughter? It was only worse now that she had met him, already she sounded like she cared for him greatly. He would be whatever she needed, a friend for now, one day her true love. He was her mate.

"We'll meet with Maeve tomorrow, and this time we'll demand to meet the male as well." Still, Rhoe looked downcast, and she placed a soft hand on his cheek, meeting his eyes. "We owe this male nothing. Our Aelin can find love without a mate. If worse comes to worst, we will do what has to be done. We will always pick our daughter." Though he knew it was true, they both knew that not saving the mate of Aelin would be one of the worst things they would ever do. Still, as the couple slept, their thoughts were only of the safety of their daughter. They would not be played this way; no one, least of all Maeve, owned their fireheart.

"This is why you brought them here. To use me against them!" Rowan's words echoed across the marble walls of the throne room, and his Queen waved a hand and the councilmen, who looked scared for their lives, scuttled from the room. Rowan was fuming. He had known from the moment that the child had fallen from the tree who she was. Not that she was the princess, but that she was his mate. Hs true mate. How was that possible? Lyria, Lyria had been his mate. This all had to be some mistake, and still his instincts screamed the words to him as those turquoise and gold eyes stared up at him, as she laughed at their expressions. Mate. Mate. Mate. Maeve simply watched in amusement as Rowan stormed across the room, stopping the foot of the steps. Gavriel had followed him, his face confused and worried for the safety of his brother. Rowan barely noticed. All he needed was answers, and he was going to get them.

"You might need to explain yourself, Rowan. I'm not sure I understand your meaning." He wanted to spit at her fake expression, at the small taunting smile. She just wanted to hear him say it. Gritting his teeth, to stop his launching himself at her, Rowan continued.

"Rhoe and Evalin Galathnius. You summoned them to Doranelle so that they would allow you to train their daughter. We all wondered why? Yes, the child was supposed to be powerful, but why would her parents let you train her? Your using the fact that I'm her…that she's my…" He couldn't say the words, not after everything that had happened. Maeve smiled in triumph at the success of the little game that he had played with him.

"You mate?" The word made Rowan flinch. "Fine, you were to know soon enough. I have been waiting for a long, long time for Aelin Ashryver Galathnius to come into the world. Hundreds of years. Her entire life, her power, her family, had been fated long before you were even alive Rowan. I knew that when the day came that I wanted to wield Aelin as my own weapon, I would need something to hold over her, then you came along. The perfect bait. Rowan Whitehorn, the mate of Aelin Ashryver Galathnius. Still, how was I going to control you. I needed to break you, break you so that when she finally arrived, I would have the perfect solution. That's where Lyria come in. It wasn't difficult to tug on your blood oath and make you believe she was your mate. After that it was only a matter of send the right soldiers to the right mountain." Rowan bared his teeth and jumped. He would kill her for this, what she had done to him, to Lyria, what she wanted to do to his mate. His hands were centimetres from the dark queen's face when darkness met him. When his eyes opened once more, he was kneeling on the cold marble of the throne room, staring up at the queen, constricted by darkness. Prowling towards him, Maeve tutted and placed a sharp nail under his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. He didn't see the hand coming before she stuck him across the face. As she sauntered back to her throne, a slow burning ebbed at Rowan's jaw, spreading up his cheek. "Now, I have everything in place. Tomorrow, we shall have another meeting and you will attend. You will be your charming self," she laughed, "and show the royals exactly the kind of man that deserves to be the mate of one of the most powerful beings in the world. You will be the reason that they have no choice but to leave their child in my care, unless they never want her to see her mate again. You shouldn't try to fight it, Rowan. This has been my intention for over three centuries and you have but 24 hours. Do as I have told you." That strong tug on the blood oath had Rowan standing and exiting the chambers. In just a few hours, his entire life had been turned upside down. Gavriel's voice followed him back to his rooms, and his brother stayed with him long through the night, but all of Rowan's thoughts remained with the young princess who was somewhere in the castle sleeping at this very moment.

The next morning, nothing was different. Aelin's parents rushed of quickly after breakfast, and once more, Quinn went with them. Aelin had read all of her books, and had even thought over some of her lessons. Still, all morning, a familiar ache had spread through her fingers, and she kept her fists clenched to keep from letting go. At least in Doranelle, she couldn't damage the building itself, but there were plenty of other things in this room that would burn, and there were still people she could hurt. She wanted her parents, or Quinn or Aedion, or anything to distract her from the power sparking at her fingertips. Rain pounded against the window frame, and as Aelin looked out over the gardens, her eyes rested upon a small clearing surrounded by apple trees. Smiling, Aelin bounded from the room. She didn't have to spend her day alone again; she could find Rowan, and spend the day with him.

The long marble corridors were unusually empty, and Aelin missed the bustle and the community of Teressan's palace. Still, she kept going, trying to find anyone who might be able to tell her where she could find him. Winding through the halls, working mainly of instinct, but unconsciously following the tug of her mating bond. Finally, Aelin arrived at a large set of double doors and she heard voices inside. First a cruel, powerful voice that made Aelin cringe sounded, followed by the voices of her parents. Was this the meeting that they were attending? She knew that she should return to her rooms, and that maybe Rowan would find her there, but Aelin couldn't resist the urge to enter and find out what was happening. Pushing open the double doors and slipping through the small crack that she had created, Aelin was proud of the stealth at which she had entered, but it didn't stop every head in the room turning towards her. Holding her head up, Aelin refused to cower, and she approached where her parents stood in front of the throne. She would, or couldn't, look upon the dark queen on the throne, instead staring up at her parents, and waiting to hear what would happen next. Her mother dropped to her level, however, and began to speak in a calm voice, but Aelin could still hear the worry lacing her tone.

"Aelin, I thought we told you to stay in your room." Her tone wasn't chiding, but Aelin could tell her mother didn't want her here, and she fought the disappointment that flooded her. "Don't worry," Evalin continued. "Quinn will take you back." Aelin's eyes flicked to the smiling Captain of the Guard, but even his usual easy smile seemed strained. Still, if this was what her parents wanted, she could hardly argue, and she didn't want to show them up in front of this new enemy, or ally, or whoever Maeve was to them. Stepping forwards to take Quinn's outstretched hand, Aelin noticed a glimmer of silver in her periphery vision, and turned her head to the foot of the dais. There stood Rowan, seeming stricken, and glancing between the visitors from Teressan. When she met his face, however, it seemed like the only open and normal thing in the room, and so she walked slowly over to him, and smiled up.

"I came to see if you wanted to play." Rowan opened his mouth, as though to agree, but was cut off by her father.

"Aelin." It sounded like a warning, but Aelin didn't understand.

"What's wrong, papa?" Her brow was furrowed, but then she glanced between him and Rowan and smiled. "Oh, sorry. This is Rowan. Rowan, this is Rhoe Galathnius and Evalin Galathnius." She spoke her parents' names proudly and looked at the expressions of the three of them. Rowan smiled at her innocent expression and the way she had so quickly commanded control of the room, but it soon passed as he remember his role. This perfect, proud, brave girl was his mate, and he would never really get the chance to know her. Still, she deserved some kind of explanation and if no one else would give it to her, then he would try.

"Yes, I know." He murmured, and Aelin once more turned to him, now looking confused.

"Rowan." The voice was like the shadows that Aelin hid from, and spoke in an utterly controlling way, and Aelin decided that she didn't like the owner of the voice very much. Maeve spoke the name of her friend as though she owned him, and Aelin couldn't help but see the pained expression as Maeve ordered him to stop speaking, and he looked down at her with sorrow in his eyes. Maeve walked down the grand steps leading to the dais and approached the princess, a cunning smile spreading across her face as she knelt in front of the child.

"Hello, Aelin. It's nice to see you again." Aelin didn't like the way she said the wrds, as though they would spend a lot more time together, and his herself behind Rowan's leg, and breathing in his scent of pine and snow, that reminded her of home. She would be safe as long as she stayed with him. Watching Aelin lean into Rowan for protection, Maeve let out a demented laugh and spun back to Aelin's parents. "See, she already feels the bond. How can you take away your child's best friend, her mate, before she even has the chance to know him." Aelin didn't understand and tried desperately to process all of the words. She just wanted to go and play with Rowan, maybe show him how good she was at reading; she didn't want to stay in this court room with the scary queen and her parents acting strange, looking at her with such pity. She wanted to tell Rowan this, and maybe he would come with her, so she reached her arms up, in a silent command for him to pick her up so she could tell him. Rowan glanced down at her, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes at her order, but tried to resist picking her up, for both of their sakes. They could not become attached.

"Aelin." Her mother spoke this time, and the warning in her voice made Aelin step closer to Rowan and stretch her arms up higher.

"Up." She was annoyed now, she just wanted to leave. The feeling passed however, when Rowan's strong arms gripped her and hauled her into the air. She rested on the side of his hip, and as she whispered her request to leave, his silver hair tickled her cheek. Her parents let out a short gasp, as though seeing them together for the first time, and Aelin glanced at them with confusion. Aelin beamed however when she turned back to meet Rowan's deep pine green eyes. Then, as though something clicked into place between them, Aelin's eyes widened and she laughed. The word was so perfect, and she didn't know why it sounded funny. Still, she smiled widely as she announced it. "Mate."

As though the word had rippled in the room, the characters swept into action. Quinn lunged forwards, grabbing Aelin from Rowan's arms, so fast that she couldn't cling on. Reaching over the Captain of the Guard's shoulders, Aelin let out a small cry of protest, but Quinn just gripped her harder, before handing her to her father, whose arms wrapped around her in a protective manner. Rowan was staring at Aelin as though the rest of the room had disappeared and she couldn't bring herself to look away, even when her mother's hands began to stroke her hair. She didn't understand, why was everyone acting so strange. Right now, the only safe place in the room was standing with Rowan but they weren't letting her do that. And worst of all was the malicious grin the had spread across the dark queen's face.

"Well, now that we've settled that." The words broke the tension that seemed to be rippling from everyone in the room, and Aelin met her dark eyes, searching for the answer there. What was going on? "The child has confirmed it." Aelin didn't like how she was being referred to, like an object, not a person. "They're mates." Despite herself, and the way her father tensed beneath her, Aelin smiled, and peered at Rowan from her father's shoulder, who still looked stricken, and strangely wistful. Like he had just lost someone. "Now then, let's see what you would do to protect this male, your daughter's future." Aelin's father tightened his jaw, and stared down Maeve.

"Your threats don't scare us, Maeve. You wouldn't do anything to hurt one of your own blood sworn." Maeve, smiled and flicked her eyebrows up, in challenge.  
"I'm disappointed. I thought you would have learned not to underestimate me." Strutting over to where Rowan stood, who was keeping his eyes fixed on Aelin before flicking them to the approaching queen. "Rowan." She said his name like an order, and placed a slim hand on his arm. As Aelin heard the scrape of steel against a sheath, she snapped her head to her mother who let out a sharp gasp. Maeve, turned to them, smiling. "What? Do you want me to stop? Because I will, if you just promise one little thing." Evalin growled.

"Not for anything would we sign over our daughter's life to you." She walked over to Aelin and forced her to look away from Rowan, who held his knife in front of him. It made no sense to Aelin. Who did Maeve want him to hurt? Feeling her mother's warm hand against her face, she met the turquoise and gold eyes, that looked furious. "Go to your room, Aelin. Quinn will take you." Her father placed her down on the floor, and Quinn held her hand, tightly, but gently, pulling her from the room. She could no longer see what was happening, but she heard her mother's steely voice, clipped with grief. "Go ahead." Aelin tried to spin to see what she was referring to, to see if maybe she could beckon Rowan to follow her and they could go and play in the garden, but Quinn's grip held tight and she was unable to turn at all.

Then, from behind them, came a small groan and Aelin struggled desperately to see what was happening, enough so that she managed to turn, only to see Rowan meet her eyes, and fall to his knees with a loud crack, still clutching the dagger to his stomach. Feeling something inside her snapping, Aelin let out a desperate cry and scrambled from the Captain of the Guard's grip, and sprinted across the room, past her parents and the dark queen, skidding to the floor beside the dying male. He smiled softly up at her, despite his blood that already matted through his silver hair, that she had already grown to love. Seeing it crimson stained before her caused her to begin to softly cry, but she angrily wiped her tears away, and stood, grabbing Rowan's arm.

"Come on, you said that we could go and play." Aelin tugged slightly, refusing to give into accept what was happening. "Come on, Rowan. Let's go and play!" Still, her stubborn voice bounced across the marble walls, whilst the rest of the room held their breaths. Rowan just shook his head, and held Aelin's tiny hand in his large calloused one.

"No, Aelin. I'm sorry." Aelin returned to his side, gripping his hand in her own, not wanting to let go. The words were the worst things she had ever heard.

"But you said we would play. You were supposed to come to Teressan and teach me to fight and meet Aedion. Please, Rowan." He smiled up at her again, though it was pained and the attempt at happiness only made her cry harder.

"It's ok, you can play with Aedion, and I'm sure that there are plenty of people in Teressan who can teach you to fight." Aelin cried, and waited for someone, for anyone to tell her that it was going to be ok. Instead, a tall Fae male stormed into the room, falling to his knees at the sight of Rowan on the floor, and Gavriel ran in behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and bowing his head. Aelin didn't care, she refused to care about anything aside from Rowan in front of her. Her mate, Rowan. She didn't even know what that word meant yet, what their bond meant, and yet she could already feel it breaking. Maeve's voice sounded from above her, though the dark queen's eyes remained on Aelin's parents.

"Do you see what you've done? What you've taken from her?" The tear that fell down his father's cheek made bury bubble up inside of Aelin and she stepped away from Rowan, standing before Maeve, flame flickering at her fingertips.

"They didn't do this. You did this. You took him from me. This is your fault." Aelin was screaming now; she didn't care about court etiquette, she only cared about Rowan and the growing ache in her chest. Rowan reached out for the young girl from where he lay, groaning.

"Aelin." It wasn't a reprimand, but a plea, a plea for her to go to him, so that he could look at her once more. Her anger having flooded out of her, Aelin raced to Rowan's side and tucked her head into his chest, crying softly.

"Why does it hurt so much, Rowan? Why am I breaking?" She breathed the words, so that only he could hear them. Shifting beneath her, Rowan lifted his head, making her face him.

"You'll be ok, Aelin. You'll be more than ok, you'll be magnificent. I'm only sorry that I won't get to see it." Aelin wiped away his tear with her hand, and it looked so small against his face. Flicking his eyes to the dark queen behind her, Rowan's eyes narrowed. "Don't ever sign your life away to anyone, not for anything. Do not let that light go out, Fireheart." Aelin didn't know how he knew that name, the name that her parents called her, but on his lips, it sounded perfect, like a prayer. Knowing that that was his goodbye, Aelin clutched Rowan harder, not caring about the blood that pooled beneath her, staining her dress and hands and face, from where she had wiped away her own tears. This wasn't supposed to be the end, she could feel it. They were supposed to have years and years, they were supposed to rattle the stars. Aelin didn't know where the thoughts had come from, but she held onto them, reaching down into herself for the small part of her power that healed, that water droplet that she had gotten from her mother. Willing it to save the life in front of her, to give her those years with Rowan, Aelin clenched her eyes shut, and held on. Voices sounded around her, but she drowned them out focussing on her task.

A small gasp came from beneath her, and Aelin's eyes snapped open. Pine green eyes met her own, and Aelin's tears dried up, as she let out an excited squeal, barely giving him time to sit up before flinging herself into his arms. The room around her was a series of gasps and yells, but she breathed in Rowan's scent and knew that it would be ok now, as long as he was with her. And yet, before she could even tell him that, strong arms were gripping her once more, pulling her away from him. She couldn't bring herself to do anything but smile though, despite her rage at having been pulled away from him. Her mother looked down at her with bewilderment, and glanced between her daughter and Rowan, who was now standing, blinking at his lack of pain, of weakness. It was as though nothing had happened at all. Why wasn't she allowed to be next to Rowan anymore? She had saved him, he was better. Aelin didn't struggle though; knowing that he was ok was enough. No, she didn't struggle until Maeve broke the silence in the room, pulling a dagger from her belt.

"I guess if you want something doing properly, you have to do it yourself." Aelin blinked, taking in what she was about to do, imploring one of the strong males who had cried for Rowan moments before to save him now, but they seemed frozen, unable to help. As Maeve neared Rowan, Aelin surged away from her mother, and ran in front of him, in between the dark queen and her mate.

"No." She didn't yell, she didn't cry, she just stated it. It was a fact, Rowan would live. Nothing Maeve wanted to do could thwart that. Maeve looked at the young girl, startled. It took a moment, but then a deep chuckle, identical to Aelin's own laugh, echoed from across the room. Aelin's eyes widened, as did everyone else's in the room, as they took in Rhoe Galathnius laughing hysterically at the dark queen and the five-year-old before her, clutching his sides. Confused and desperate to be let in on the joke, Aelin questioned, "What, papa?" He attempted to smother his laugh with his hand, but his words were broken and his shoulders shook.

"It's just, she wants to hurt him to get you, but she can't hurt him without killing you. She's stuck." Despite everything on the line, Aelin's own laugh joined her father's and soon after, her mother's melodic one. The court of Doranelle watched the Teressan royals, stunned into silence, and the laughing didn't subside, even when Maeve made her order.

"Get out." Her voice only made them laugh more, and it maddened her. "Everyone out." The three blood sworn members of the court leapt to their feet as though they were being chased by white hot branding irons, but Aelin staggered after them, still giggling, and her parents and Quinn followed her, trying, and failing to compose themselves.

Grateful for being free of that hateful throne room, Aelin looked up at her now serious parents. Her father and mother seemed stunned, but Quinn placed a hand on her cheek.

"Good job, princess." He laughed. She grinned up at him, and then her thoughts returned to the most pressing matter at hand. Rowan. Spinning round, to see where the three males stood at the other end of the corridor, Aelin beamed. Hurtling across the space, not caring about the two males hugging him, the males let go at the exact right moment and she threw herself into her arms, laughing happily. The shock on his face was evident, but as he spun her around and wrapped his arms around her, it melted away into pure happiness. Finally, they stopped spinning, but she refused to break his gaze. Rowan slowly leaned in and kissed her forehead gently, before leaning back and meeting her bright eyes once more.

"You are my hero, Fireheart." She liked the sound of that, and her smile broadened. She would have been happy to stay there forever, but a voice interrupted them.

"You are an enigma, Aelin Ashryver Galathnius." Releasing her grip on Rowan slightly, the prince put her down, not letting go of her hand. Turning to examine the unknown presence, Aelin stared into the eyes that reminded her immensely of a wolf she had chased through the gardens a few days ago. The male shot her a rogue grin, and she smiled back, unable to help herself. He kneeled before her then, and kissed the hand that wasn't holding Rowan's.

"Fenrys Moonbeam, at your service." Aelin scoffed at his surname, but looked up at Gavriel as well, who smiled at her with the same smile her cousin often gave her. Glancing between the two males, she composed herself.

"Well, you are immensely welcome for saving your friend." It was the males turn to scoff, and Aelin smiled, glad to be the centre of attention again. Still, she longed for Rowan's comforting hold, and that pine and snow scent that she associated with home. As though sensing her request, Rowan leaned down and swept her up once more, leading to a squeal of delight and her eyes returned to his. "I'm very glad I saved you, because now you can come back to Teressan with me and meet Aedion and live in the palace forever and ever." Rowan's cheerful expression seemed to flicker for a moment and the quiet joy in his eyes was more subdued. Aelin didn't notice, however, instead glancing down the hall where her parents and Quinn watched them. Evalin still seemed worried and Quinn's hand rested on his sword, but Rhoe was still grinning and gave Rowan a nod. Evalin whacked his arm for having provided some kind of permission, but he simply rolled his eyes at her, and walked in the direction of their room, murmuring to themselves. Aelin was quiet for a moment, just taking in the happiness of the situation, that to her seemed resolved, but was far from. "I'll let you carry me to my room and I'll show you how well I can read." Fenrys laughed at the command in her voice, but Rowan smiled at her softly.

"As you wish."


	2. Chapter 2

**I am writing more to this story because I had quite a few requests for it. This chapter isn't very long, but there should be more coming soon. Please feel free to tell me what you think and give opinions because I love hearing what people think about my work! Thanks :)**

 **. . .**

After that, whenever Aelin's parents left her to go to meetings or conferences, or she couldn't find them in the castle, she went to Rowan. She didn't know what it was, that pull to be near him, but she didn't care. He was her best friend, after Aedion of course, and she didn't mind his friends either. Gavriel was kind and had even let her borrow one of his books to read, though she had to admit, it was difficult. Fenrys had been mostly absent during the two weeks, apparently having to attend the meetings that Aelin's own parents didn't, but it didn't stop him grinning at her during dinner as they competed to see who could steal the most grapes off of Rowan's plate without him noticing. Much to Aelin's delight, she had won nearly every time, though she hadn't noticed, Rowan's small smile as he averted his eyes from her small fingers, and instead focussed intently on Fenrys'. The princess had even made it her task to make Lorcan smile, though she was somewhat unsuccessful so far, the male not smiling like the others, but looking at her like she was something he hadn't quite figured out yet. Still, she liked them all, if only for the fact that not one of them looked at her with those fearful gazes that were a constant burden on her in Teressan, and since the events in the throne room, had become commonplace among the other guards. Not the cadre though, as she had taken to calling them, and she couldn't help but feel at home when she spent time with them. The boredom that had haunted her those first days was gone.

About a week after the throne room, Aelin was sat in the library with Rowan, cross-legged, with an array of cards in her hands, scrunching her brow as she tried to wrap her head around bluffing. The library was mostly empty, but the librarians' stares drifted to the powerful male, Rowan Whitehorn, sat on the floor with a five year old, smiling at her expectantly.

"Marion says that lying is wrong." Aelin looked up from her cards to where Rowan's green eyes remained fixed on her.

"And who is Marion?" Rowan asked.

"She looks after me."

"Well, she sounds very wise. Lying is wrong, but when you play cards, it is ok, because it helps you to win." He was so patient, and Aelin couldn't help but smile. She liked it better like this, when it was just her and Rowan. He was more relaxed, and kinder and smiled more. Returning her attention to her hand, she couldn't help but sigh. She really wasn't going to win. Taking in her disappointed expression, Rowan let out a low chuckle, and opened his mouth as though to speak, when he froze, his eyes darting to the door. Aelin peered around, only to see Fenrys walk in, his face flushed and his attention drawing straight to them. Rowan stood, and Aelin knew not to object. She knew enough about court rules from her parents that there was no point trying to convince him to stay. Fenrys walked over to them, and glanced between the pair, before meeting Rowan's stare.

"She wants you in the throne room." Rowan nodded, and turned giving Aelin a low bow. She knew he had to leave, but she wished he didn't, and couldn't help but bite her lip.

"But we were going to play cards." Her voice was small, but Rowan just gave her a small smile and shook his head.

"Maybe tomorrow, Fireheart. Today, you can spend time with Fenrys." With that, he backed out of the room, as though by a force that she couldn't feel, and she looked mournfully down at her hand of cards. Following her gaze, Fenrys gave her pat on the back.

"It's ok, Aelin. You couldn't have won with that hand anyway." He laughed at his own joke, before beckoning her to follow him out of the library. For a minute, Aelin considered just returning to her room to read Gavriel's book, but she remembered the rogue grin he had given her and his games at dinner and decided that she might end up liking him the most out of all of the cadre, aside from Rowan, of course.

It became evident to Aelin that they were going outside, as Fenrys twisted through corridors that had become familiar on her days wandering the palace alone. The grin had faded from his face and as she watched his expression, she saw something like worry flashing in his eyes. Fenrys held one of the small doors that led into the small courtyard, sketching a bow, and Aelin peered around curiously. She had never been in this part of the palace before, and couldn't say that she preferred it to the small forest she had previously explored. A large stone path lay ahead, shaded by overhanging trees that cast large shadows, and interrupted by stone statues, that seemed to watch the Fae and the princess. "You're not what I imagined you would be like." Fenrys interrupted the child's thoughts and she glanced up at him, as though having forgotten for a moment that he was beside her.

"And what did you expect me to be like?" It was the first time she had properly spoken to the male and was trying to get a reading on him. Her parents had told her it was always important to understand what kind of person someone was.

"Haughtier, more spoiled, more arrogant…" he paused, biting his lip, and smiling bashfully. "Apologies, Aelin, I didn't realise how that would come out." She surprised herself by not minding, liking the immediate honesty of the male, so she just smiled.

"I don't mind. Besides, you're mistaken. I am plenty arrogant." At that, Fenrys laughed, but Aelin's thoughts returned to his worried expression from earlier. "What are these meetings that are being had about?" His eyes snapped to her face, and for a moment she thought he might tell her the truth, but he couldn't seem to get the words out, and instead, just shook his head.

"Nothing that you need to worry about, princess." That was a common answer she received. She was only little, after all, but she didn't feel that way when it felt like so much rested on her shoulders. As though sensing her disappointment, Fenrys paused, crouching before her so that they were face to face. "Do you want to see something?" Aelin nodded eagerly, her worry abandoned, in anticipation of the glint in his eye. He stood straight again, and took a few steps away from her, his spine straightening and eyes focussed. Aelin barely saw it happen, covering her gaze for a moment to shield her eyes from the sudden flash of light, but when she brought her hand away from her eyes, Fenrys no longer stood in front of her, replaced by a large white wolf, its teeth bared. Staggering back a step, and wondering how fast she could run back to the palace, Aelin caught the eye of the wolf and noticed that same glint that had been in the Fae male's eyes just moments before. There was also a cautiousness in the eyes as the wolf took a slow step towards her, calm and as though trying not to scare her or make any sudden movements, as though she was the animal. Hoping that her hunch was correct, Aelin stepped towards the wolf, her palm outstretched and it was met with soft white fur, as the wolf nuzzled its head into her hand. Laughing, Aelin clapped her hands together, and stroked the wolf once again, who was now purring like a kitten. It was only when the wolf sat on its hind legs and gestured with its head that she realised what he wanted her to do. Gingerly, Aelin perched onto Fenrys' back, the soft fur tickling her skin, and the moment she had a firm grip, he was off. He sprinted off down the stone path, and Aelin squealed in delight. It was like nothing she had ever experienced. It felt like what she imagined flying to be like. She wished she had the confidence to let go and spread her arms wide as her father had described to her in bedtime stories, but instead she just clutched the wolf beneath her, wondering how she would ever describe this to Aedion.

Fenrys ran through the courtyards and forests for what felt like hours and hours, and when they finally stopped, Aelin had flushed cheeks and her hair was like straws of hay, but she didn't care. Throwing her arms around the wolf, she grinned madly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! That was so fun." She felt him shift beneath her, but didn't bother letting go, allowing him to spin her around, before placing her to the ground suddenly. Frowning, she turned to see what had caught his attention, only to find her parents. She smiled at them, eager to tell them about her afternoon, but their steely expressions had her closing her mouth, and fidgeting. It was rare that her parents were like this around her, unless it was necessary, and her mother's mouth was set in a firm line, and she held a hand out for Aelin to come away from Fenrys. Aelin didn't move. "Have you met Fenrys, mama? He's my wolf friend." She didn't notice Fenrys straighten his spine, or the pride on his features. Her parents did, though, and her mother took Aelin's hand, pulling her towards them.

"Come along, Aelin. You should have stayed in your room." Aelin frowned up at her parents now. Why were they being like this? Still, she didn't want to fight with them, so followed them into the palace, smiling at Fenrys over her shoulder and giving him a small wave. She noticed his smile this time, and he gave her a small bow. Her parents led her back to her rooms where they remained for the duration of the evening. Aelin could tell something was bothering them, but she didn't mention it, instead trying to figure out what a word in Gavriel's book said.

Later that evening, Rowan knocked on the door of her rooms, and Aelin smiled widely, wishing she had seen more of him. She felt happier around him, and he reminded her of home, letting that homesickness in her chest ease. Her parents nodded to him, but said Aelin needed to get to bed. She could hardly hold in her disappointment, until Rowan offered to tell her a story. Her parents' approval was drowned out by Aelin's squeals of delight as she rushed into bed. He spent the evening reading to her from Gavriel's story, and she realised that the princess in the book was just like her, and that she didn't know why she was so different either. When it was finally time to sleep, Aelin tugged on Rowan's sleeve, desperate to ask the question that had been troubling her all day.

"Why don't mama and papa want me to be friends with Fenrys, Rowan?" He paused a moment, and she settled further into her blankets, listening to his steady heartbeat.

"I suppose it's because one day, you're going to have to leave Doranelle, and they think it will be easier if you aren't close to too many people. If there are less people for you to leave behind." Aelin was only more confused by his response.

"But they let me be friends with you."

"Yes, but that's because we're -" he paused, as though stopping himself, but Aelin's turquoise and gold eyes were already trained on him with curiosity, so he conceded -"mates." The word sounded so perfect and she remembered how she had said it that day in the throne room. It was true, the truest thing she had ever heard, even if she didn't know what it meant.

"What are mates?" She didn't like not understanding things, she felt it put her at a disadvantage. Rowan hesitated a moment more, as though searching for the perfect words.

"Someone's mate is their best friend. The person that will always be with them." Aelin smiled a little, satisfied with the answer, but as she settled into the pillows, her eyes closing.

"Aedion is my best friend," she stated, but smiled up at him again, "but you are a close second." Rowan smiled at her again, in the way that made her heart feel warm and made her feel safe. As she drifted into unconsciousness, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. In a whisper, Aelin added, "I'll never leave you behind, buzzard."

Aelin, however, had no idea how soon she would be forced to break her promise. In the late hours of the evening, she was awoken to her mother's candlelit face, and voices telling her to get up. Aelin rubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening as her father lifted her from the bed, pulling a coat over her nightgown, and her mother pulled her things into a bag. Where were they going so late? Why did they have to leave in the middle of the night? Still, she was too tired to argue, allowing her parents to guide her from the room, but as the door closed behind them, Aelin noticed Gavriel's book still perched on the dresser, and reached out for it, before her parents pulled her away and her fingers grasped the air, instead of the spine of the story. They rushed her down the hallways, their footsteps silent, and faces worried. It wasn't until Aelin saw Quinn waiting for them, opening the door to the servants' exit into a shadowed courtyard, that Aelin realised that they were leaving for good. She struggled in her father's arms, reaching over his shoulder, desperate to be allowed to run to Rowan and ask him to come with them. Why were her parents leaving him behind? He belonged with her. Her cries and shouts for her mate went unanswered, though and her mother pulled her from her father's arms and carried her, thrashing in her arms, to the awaiting carriage. She continued to shout until her mother placed her in the carriage and cupped Aelin's face with her soft hands, her expression grave.

"Fireheart, please. It is important. You mustn't cry out, mustn't alert them that we are leaving." The words and their serious delivery had Aelin closing her mouth abruptly, and she allowed herself to be moved into the carriage, staring out of the small window at the palace. Her parents joined her, but Aelin didn't look at them, keeping her eyes focussed on the palace and wondering if Rowan knew she was leaving. Her Rowan. The carriage began to move, Quinn likely driving, and Aelin's father took her hand in his, but she pulled away. Still not facing him. A tear slipped down her cheek, but she wiped it away, not wanting to be weak. Still, when she spoke, her voice was strangled and small.

"I never got to say goodbye." Her eyes remained out of the window the whole journey, even when they were once more driving through Teressan, as though she could see the whole way back to her mate in Doranelle.


	3. Chapter 3

Rowan fought it with everything he had, fought that oath that had him forced, kneeling to the ground. He needed to get to her, to reach his mate, and ensure that she was alright. Beside him, Fenrys sat in wolf form, and Gavriel knelt on his other side, and their rigid features told him that they were not there by choice either. His thoughts remained only with his mate, though, with that little girl who was the centre of his world already. When she was around, he felt freer, and only wanted to make her smile, to be the reason that her features broke into a joyful expression. This morning, he had awoken with an empty feeling, and had made for Aelin's room when Maeve had brought him here, that oath dragging him away from his purpose and left him kneeling on the floor of a throne room. Through gritted teeth, Rowan forced the words out.

"Where is she?" His words were quiet, but he knew by the cruel laugh that Maeve had heard him. How had he ever chained himself to such a woman?

"Didn't she say goodbye when her family fled in the night? Did she not wish to take you with her?" The words felt like a blow to the stomach, leaving him breathless, his thoughts scrambling for an explanation. Despite his fear for his mate, he was glad they had find a way to leave, that she was safe now, even if he wasn't. She was the brightest spirit he had ever encountered and he couldn't begin to describe what he felt for her. It was more than he had ever felt about anyone. Adoration, love, and a burning desire to protect her from the queen to whom he now knelt. Unable to look Maeve in the eye, not without risking throwing his sword at her, Rowan kept his head bowed, his thoughts with his mate, safe across the ocean. He hoped that she would never return, and that she would never had to suffer under Maeve the way that he had had to. And most of all, he wished her happy, and as much as it broke his heart, he wished that her memories of him would fade, and that she wouldn't have to live missing her mate, the way he always knew he would miss her.


	4. Chapter 4

**THREE YEARS LATER**

Aelin was fighting in the courtyard with Aedion when her parents approached. Grinning at the thought that they might admire her skill, she pushed herself more and more into the fight, but Aedion flicked off her blows as if it was nothing. She knew he wasn't going easy on her, but she definitely wasn't winning, and she was putting in all of her effort, when he seemed to yawn every so often. It wasn't fair; Aedion had been allowed to learn to fight when he was 5 whereas Aelin had only first received lessons on her seventh birthday. She was too far behind and he was too much taller than her. Groaning as he ducked nimbly away from the dagger she had thrown, she didn't see him lunge out, grapping her round the waist, and hauling her over his shoulder as though she weighed no more than a sack of grain. Despite her objections, she was laughing, and continued to do so as Aedion plonked her down in front of her parents, giving a grand bow.

"I present you with the Crown Princess." Aelin continued to laugh, but her parents worried expressions had both her and her cousin petering off. Aedion's expression was serious, and Aelin couldn't help but feel out of the loop, which she didn't like at all.

"What is it, Mama?" Aelin frowned up at her family, shifting from foot to foot. Her mother simply looked to her father for a moment, a look that Aelin had seen many times before, that suggested they needed to figure out a delicate way of putting something. This only made her more anxious, biting her lip. Evalin noticed and placed a hand on her daughter's cheek, comfortingly, trying to conceal her own nervousness.

"It's nothing, Fireheart. It's just that we might have to go away for a little while."

"To Doranelle?" Aelin's anxieties were abandoned, and she filled with hope that she might return to that palace she had hated so much but the people she had loved so dearly. Despite her parents' best efforts, Aelin had not forgotten Rowan, nor had she forgotten sweet tempered Gavriel, grumpy Lorcan or cheery Fenrys, and she didn't suppose she ever would, though she worried that Rowan had forgotten all about her the moment she had left. Her mate was in her mind every day, and for the past three years, she had been unable to shake the hope that she might see him again, and that this time they wouldn't have to say goodbye so soon. As soon as she had said the words, though, she noticed the pity that flooded the faces of her family and knew that her guess had been wrong. She had asked them all, even Aedion, who she had told all about Rowan and Doranelle, why they were unable to return but she had never been given a proper answer. One day, she would find Rowan again, even if he didn't remember her. Now, her parents simply glanced between each other again, before her father spoke.

"We are going away for a short time, and Marion will come with us."

"But where are we going? And how much will I have to pack? And when do we go?" Aelin couldn't help being intrigued by this mystery trip, bouncing on her heels.

"We leave tomorrow Aelin." They glanced to Aedion, who now seemed as perplexed as Aelin, and their expressions were hesitant. All of this nervousness was making Aelin's head spin. "You will be staying here, Aedion." Grabbing her cousin's hand to show a united front in their refusal of this plan, Aelin was more confused than ever.

"No, I need Aedion to come with us. Why should this be different than anything else?" Her parents just glanced between each their again, and her mother sighed, rubbing Aedion's arm in comfort.

"We're sorry. To both of you. This is just how it has to be this time." Aelin opened her mouth to object, but her mother frowned at her, interrupting. "This is none negotiable." With that, her parents turned and made their way back into the palace. Aedion and Aelin were left staring after them, their expressions a mixture of confusion and shock. Aedion recovered first, looking down at Aelin's shocked features.

"It's all right, Aelin. I'll come next time. Besides it's only for a few days, and you need the practice if you're ever going to have a hope at beating me." His strained attempt at humour made little impact, and Aelin's face turned from confused to upset. She pulled her hand from Aedion's, clasping her own hands in front of her, and staring down at them, her voice tight, as she refused to meet Aedion's eyes.

"It is because of the library, isn't it? It was an accident, I didn't want to hurt anyone."

"Aelin, they know that." Aedion took her hands in his own large ones, his gaze concerned for his cousin. He knew her better than anyone, and he couldn't bear to see her hurting. Still, Aelin couldn't bring herself to look up.

"Maybe I am dangerous, like they say." Aelin blinked back the tears in her eyes, determined not to cry. Aedion's finger pulled her face up to look at his, and the love she saw there had her biting down on her lip to keep form trying.

"You are my best friend, and I am not afraid of you." The words had plump tears falling down Aelin's cheeks, and she wanted to fold into the comfort of her cousin's arms, and refuse to let go, but instead she forced herself to pull her hands from his.

"Well, maybe you should be." Her voice wobbled as she spoke, and her hands shook. "Maybe you should stay away from me. I don't want to hurt you." These last words were whispered, the truth of them sinking into her. Could she ever really be close to someone without risking hurting them?

Moving past Aedion, Aelin ran all the way back to her rooms, where she closed the door and allowed the tears to fall freely, curled up in the corner of her room, trying to tame the power that was urged to explode by her emotions. She had to calm down, or she would burn down the palace, she could feel it. Grabbing her secret box from under the bed, Aelin pulled the lid off and breathed deeply. Inside the blue cardboard box that Marion had given Aelin three years ago, despite being confused by the request, lay a large pile of letters, each with the same name written on the envelope, in a range of handwriting, as Aelin had grown and been taught properly to write. She ran her fingers over the pile of envelopes, Aelin focussed on breathing more steadily, before taking a piece of paper and a quill from her desk, before setting down to work.

 _Dear Rowan,_

 _I have missed you even more recently. The feeling that I got when I was around you, the feeling that I didn't have to be afraid of my power, because you could help me. I miss that. Mama and Papa are taking me away for a few days, and I think it's because they're scared of me. Everyone is, and I'm starting to think they are right to. I love Aedion, and he is the only one who trusts me fully, but what if I hurt him or burn him. I miss you could read these letters, or that you could write back, but for now, just pretending that you will helps me._

 _From, Aelin_

Adding the new edition to her pile, Aelin smiled through her tears. She had been writing to Rowan ever since they had left Doranelle, and she didn't know why it helped, but it did. It made her feel like maybe one day, she might get the chance to tell her mate these things. Wiping away her tears, and pushing the box back under the bed, Aelin reached for one of her stories, the only other thing that made her feel better, aside from Rowan or her family. For the afternoon, Aelin embraced the stories of those who seemed to have it so much easier than her, without powers or risk of hurting those they loved, and she couldn't help but envy them. During dinner, she was quiet, but only Aedion, who still seemed upset after their conversation earlier, and her great uncle Orlon seemed to notice. After dinner, as she made her way back to her rooms, her uncle approached her, swinging her up from behind and into his arms, but she didn't squeal the way the princess usually did, and her uncle's face grew troubled.

"What is it, my darling?" Still in his arms, Aelin wrapped her small arms around his neck, wondering if he could understand. If anyone could, it would be him.

"Were you ever worried that being around people would hurt them? That you weren't allowed to love other people the way that everyone else could in case they were used against you? Or that people didn't love you the same way they love other people, because you're their leader, or because they were afraid of you?" Her voice was very small by the end, and she glanced up, her own gaze meeting her uncle's. His expression was understanding, and he placed her down, before kneeling in front of her, his eye on hers.

"Is this about Aedion? Your parents?" Aelin's nod was barely perceptible, but Orlon sighed as he saw it. "My darling, there will always be people who are afraid of you, and your power, and sometimes they will even be the people close to you." These were the words that had weighed down on Aelin's heart the whole afternoon, and for a good portion of her life besides. "But, that doesn't mean they love you any less. Your family will always love you, Aelin, no matter what. You being a leader just means that more people will love you as well. All of the people in our kingdom, that you are destined to help and protect, will love you, even if they don't always understand and sometimes fear your gifts. But there will be others who will see your power and gifts and will not fear you, and will love you." Her uncle tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and rested his hand on her cheek, smiling up at her. "Aedion is one of these people. You should not push him away, my darling, because I have a strong feeling that he will love no matter what you say or do." Smiling at her uncle, Aelin thanked him, and he walked with her back to her room, where she spent the evening packing for her trip the next day. When Marion peeked in on the child that evening, she found her already in bed, sleeping, her book, one that Aedion had given her, still in her hand.

The next morning, Aelin was beside her parents as they made their way out to the carriage that would take them to the house that they were visiting. Marion was already making her way to the carriage, but Aelin turned to crane her head and see if Aedion was watching them from the roof as he had done when they had gone to Doranelle all those year ago. Her heart fractured as she noted his absence, but her mother's voice pulled her back.

"Fireheart," her mother inclined her head to the door they had just come out of, and Aelin pivoted to find Aedion leaning against the door frame. Walking over to him, trying to keep in her tears, and all the words she longed to say, she looked at him a moment before throwing her arms around him. His arms easily looped around her, she whispered her apologies into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Aedion. I didn't mean it. Please, don't stay away from me. You're my best friend." When she pulled away, Aedion was grinning down at her.

"Less than a day and you're already falling apart without me. This is why you need me as your blood-sworn." Aelin smiled, linking her pinky finger with his, that promise between them, that bond that she knew would always be there. Her cousin, and the other side to her coin.

"Goodbye, Aedion. See you in a week." With that, she skipped over to her parents, taking her father's outstretched hand, and leaving the palace of Orynth.

It was the same evening that Aelin was lying in her bed when her mother came in to say goodnight, and as Aelin tried to drift off, even the amulet of the Orynth could not make her feel safe from the raging storm outside. Creeping into her parents' room and crawling in between them, she ignored where the rain from the window had soaked the sheets, feeling safe in their presence, and drifted off. She did not dream that night, and didn't wake again, until a scream sounded through the house. Arms were pulling Aelin up, and through her half-asleep daze, it took her a moment to register the bed before her, even as Marion ran with her from the room. The mangled corpses of her parents and the blood that pooled around them, and that stained Aelin's own nightgown. It was all she could do not to vomit or scream, but where the fire that she expected to flood from her should have been was simply emptiness, and Aelin clung to Marion with everything that she had. The day passed in a blue and all she could feel was that emptiness, and that void of feeling, where she prayed the feelings would never come because she was sure that when they did, they would drown her. It was Marion that held her up, Marion that made her feel safe, and Marion who Aelin focussed on that day. She was her pillar, but when her pillar fell and she saw the panic flood Marion's eyes at the sound of approaching men, Aelin's strength crumpled. It was all she could do to hold in her cry as she watched her nursemaid killed before her eyes, and as she saw her only semblance of reality left sacrifice herself for the princess.

She didn't know if she was screaming or sobbing as she stumbled through the forest, the sharp branches cutting her bare feet and brambles tearing at her thin nightgown. It was not the howls of the animals that she feared, but the men who were sure to be chasing her, and the life that she was running from. Her thoughts were scattered with the horrors of the day, and the previous evening, where she felt safe and warm, was a lifetime away. All she knew now was that she had to keep running. Far, far away. And so, she did. Until she wasn't running anymore and it wasn't the wind that whipped her, but the icy cold water of the river, tossing her from side to side like a ragdoll. Helpless, as the water filled her lungs when she made to scream, Aelin didn't stop fighting, thrashing, desperately trying to reach the land or the surface or the idea of safety that had long since abandoned her. Her loved ones urged her on, as she thought of the strength of all of those who had come before her and everything that had been sacrificed for her. Even as the light faded, and her head became fuzzy, Aelin held on, for all that she had left, she held on. She held on so that Aedion would not lose his whole family. She held on so that Marion's death was not in vain, and her final message could be passed on. She held on for the kingdom that she was bound to. And she held on to that shred of light that seemed to reach from her to someone, or something. She could not recognise the bond for what it was, but she held onto it, if only because it was the last thing left to hold on to. As her eyes fluttered shut, and the feeling of the water faded away, it was only them that Aelin felt the arms wrap around her, and the warmth of the body that seemed to have arrived from nowhere. She held onto that too, but even when she felt stronger, the strangest sensation came over her, as though she were flying past the wind, her soul separate from her body. For a moment, she believed herself to be dead. That moment ended when she fell to the marble stone floor of the palace in Doranelle, choking up river water shaking uncontrollably, with Fenrys, who for the first time in his life had winnowed two people at once in saving her, staring down at her with the most shocked and tortured look in his eyes. Aelin could hardly catch the breath to interpret it. All she knew was that she was alive. And despite that, she was alone, because her parents were dead, her Marion was dead, and for all she knew the whole of Orynth was dead and she was the only one left. She was alone.

The hall seemed silent, aside from Aelin's retching and Fenrys made no move towards or away from her, hesitant of what his movement might elicit in the small damaged child who was still covered with blood, both her own and others. Water drenched the princess, but she barely noticed as the footsteps at the other end of the corridor slowed and stopped.

"Fireheart?" The voice that spoke was the one from her dreams, was the one that seemed familiar no matter the time apart, and was the only thing that could cause the princess to look up from her spot on the floor.

"Rowan." Her voice was hoarse, and she didn't know if he even heard it, but as she stumbled to her feet, pushing past the pain and aching in her body, her started towards her. She ran, or hobbled more like, towards her mate, before they met in the centre of the corridor, and she held onto him for all that she had. He knelt, his arms wrapping around her weak body, and as she buried her head in his shoulder and breathed in the scent of pine and snow, and the scent of home, Aelin couldn't help the tears that she had pushed back all day. And as she had feared, her walls came down, and with the tears came sobs, broken and choked sobs, and screams, the most heart-renching screams a person or Fae has ever heard, and as Aelin broke down, Rowan just held her, all of his thought with the broken young girl before him. What had happened to her these past three years? What had she just gone through that had broken her so? He did not ask, for he knew that she would have no words to answer his questions anyway, just holding her as the cadre stared at the lost princess of Teressan.


	5. Chapter 5

Rowan watched over the child as she slept soundly, her own exhaustion fighting off the nightmares that he was sure would plague her. He hadn't left her side since he had turned the corner to find her spluttering on the floor, soaked, with wide eyes, looking like a deer in headlights, as though she was waiting for the next monster to jump out and scare her. He hadn't asked what had happened, as he had held her whilst she screamed, hadn't let his thoughts wander to what could possibly have happened these past years, or worry about the fact that his vulnerable mate was once again in the country of an evil, manipulative queen. He had just held his mate through her screams and sobs, and waited for exhaustion to sweep her away, when he scooped her fragile figure into his arms, not moving his eyes from her to address his still frozen brothers, taking her the whole way to his room, where he tucked her under the covers and let her sleep, not moving from the side of the bed, frozen as he waited for her to wake up. Hours passed, and still Rowan didn't move, not an inch, until a soft wrap came on the door and Gavriel peeked his head inside the room.

"Can we come in Rowan?" He only glanced quickly to his mate's sleeping form before giving his brother a small nod, and stepped away from the bed slightly as the four males walked into the room, each of them with drawn expressions, Fenrys' eyes moving immediately to the child in the bed, as though to check she were still there, still breathing. Rowan was still wrapping his thoughts around all of this, still trying to understand what was going to happen next, and he didn't know if the cadre were going to be a help or a hindrance. It was Lorcan who broke the tense silence.

"Rowan, we have to tell you something." The three other males looked between each other, and judging by their expression, Rowan wasn't sure he wanted to hear what they had to say.

"Where's Connall?" If he didn't know his cadre brother so well, he wouldn't have noticed the barely perceptible flinch.

"With Maeve." They all knew what that entailed, and Fenrys leaned against the small armchair that sat by the fireplace, in which a fire burned in an attempt to keep Aelin warm after all of her shivering. Rowan's gaze moved back to Lorcan, awaiting the news that had brought them to his room, but the male seemed hesitant. It was Vaughn who eventually stepped forward, his usual bluntness abandoned for a gentler tone.

"Rowan, we just got a report. From Teressan."

"Are they looking for her? Do they know she's here?" Rowan jumped in, but by the look on the males' faces, it was not the right place to do so.

"There was an attack, Rowan," said Gavriel, keeping his voice quiet so as not to wake Aelin. "An attack by the King of Ardalan. It was targeted, and they killed them."

"Who?" Rowan's voice was tight, holding his brother's stare.

"King Orlon, her parents, a nursemaid, and so many more. There weren't enough details in the report, but it was a massacre, Rowan. And they believe her to be dead too. She almost was. When I found her, she was drowning in an icy river." All of Rowan's breath went out of him, and his heart broke for his mate. Her whole family, gone. Slaughtered. And she…they had almost taken her too. No one said anything, his brothers processing, giving him time to process this new information. She had no one left. Nowhere left to go. It was a small voice that interrupted them.

"My uncle is dead too?" Rowan's head whipped around at the sound of her voice, to find Aelin lying on her side, her face facing forwards, not meeting any of their gazes. She looked so hollow and Rowan wished he could take away her pain, every bit of pain that she was feeling right now. But he couldn't.

"Yes, Fireheart." Her face didn't change, no tears coming now. It was as though she had nothing left to give.

"And Aedion?" Her voice was steady and cold, so unlike the lively child that had visited all those years ago. Gavriel answered her this time.

"The messenger didn't mention him. He said that there was still a lot that they didn't know." She sat up slightly now, meeting Gavriel's gaze with a cold stare.

"They probably didn't even bother to check, since he's not a Galathnius, or an heir to a throne. It's always been like that, even now. He's probably dead too." She had no hope, he realised, no room to hope that the last member of her family was alive, because if he wasn't, how would Aelin stand it. Her eyes met Rowan's and her gaze softened, her voice wobbling. "I don't want to go back. They're chasing me. They'll kill me." She looked into her lap, hiding her expression, and Rowan moved slowly to the bed, not wanting to startle her. Taking her dainty hand in his large calloused one, he swallowed the lump in his throat. She was so small, so fragile, and yet she had survived so much, been so strong. His Fireheart.

"You don't have to go anywhere," he said softly. She kept her head lowered, but he just took her other hand in his. "Hey, hey, look at me." She glanced up, her Ashryver eyes glassy with tears that she refused to let fall down her already tear stained cheeks. "You're safe now. I'll protect you. To whatever end." She squeezed his hands, and her voice was steady when she spoke again. Steady, but sad.

"They're not coming back." It wasn't a question, but Rowan answered anyway.

"No, Aelin, they're not." That was the hardest thing to understand, he knew. The idea that you would never see that person that had been part of your life every day; that they would never be there again.

Light had crept into the room, through the small window, when a servant came into the room, his expression nervous, and his eyes widening even more when he took in Aelin, sat in the bed, her hands gripping those of her mate. He took in each of the males, before delivering his message.

"Maeve has awoken and requires your presences in the throne room." Gavriel gave the messenger a small nod, whose face flooded with relief, as though worried there would be more pushback, and quickly exited the room. Rowan had tensed the moment the dark queen's name was mentioned, that need to protect burning through him, as he thought of Aelin stood before her aunt. Fenrys seemed to read the expression on his face.

"We have to go, Rowan." Rowan's jaw unclenched, and he breathed steadily. He need to be practical.

"Yes, I know." Still, when he turned to Aelin, it was with nervousness. "You don't have to come Fireheart. You can stay here - sleep." Her golden hair, slowly drying, bounced as she shook her head.

"I want to come. Please." How could he say no? Smiling reassuringly at his mate, he moved from the edge of the bed, allowing her to stand up, before becoming properly aware that she remained in her torn, dirty nightgown. He should have found her something else to wear, something that she hadn't run through a dark forest in just hour before. Gavriel was one step ahead of him.

"I can find something else for you to wear if you'd rather, your Highness." She flinched at the title, before looking down to examine the muddy nightgown, and slowly shaking her head. Why she wanted to keep it on, Rowan didn't know, but he wasn't about to question what she wanted, not after everything she had been through. He reached his hand out to her, to let him lead her to the throne room, if she needed something to hold on to, but she shook her head at that as well, walking from the room with her chin held high, and her expression serious. As the cadre followed her through the castle, Rowan couldn't help thinking how much she looked like a ghost, a spirit of a princess, who was doomed to walk these halls forever. With her pale skin, tangled hair, and torn nightgown, Aelin kept her head high, and didn't meet anyone's stare. She had to be the strongest child he knew. The strongest person he knew.

As they walked into the throne room, Aelin wanted to scream as she saw the dark queen's smug smile, but she would not break down again, not now in front of this woman. Edging slightly towards Rowan as she held Maeve's heavy gaze, Aelin rubbed the fabric of the nightgown between her fingers, savouring the warmth it brought, the familiarity. Thinking about the person who had put it on her, only yesterday, who had looked after her. And now she was dead, and Aelin was here, with her mate, and awaiting the judgement of the person that would determine her fate in Doranelle. Right now, all Aelin wanted was to be at home, with her mother and father and uncle and Marion and Aedion. But she couldn't, because they were dead, and she would never see them again. Every time she thought it, it stung more, the pain building, until she thought she would be physically sick. Now, at least, she was with her mate, the only person she had left in the world. And this queen might take him away from her too. Then where would she be. As she considered all of this, the young princess became impatient, hated that examining stare more and more every second. She fought the urge to fidget or to chew her bottom lip, and forced herself to keep any sense of strength she had. In her lessons, papa had always told her how important it was not to show other royals too much weakness. Aelin remembered how they had acted out different scenarios, with her father pretending to be so many exaggerated characters that had had Aelin in fits of giggles, all whilst trying to keep a straight face. No. She couldn't think about this, not here, when the tears threatened to come, and the queen's eyes bore into her own. Finally, Maeve leaned back in her chair, a feline stillness to her, and spoke.

"You've grown so much in three years." Aelin didn't know what to say to that; it was so mundane, considering the situation, and so she stayed silent. "I always wanted you to return to these halls, but I'm sorry that it is under such upsetting circumstances." An apology, Aelin hadn't been expecting that, though by the satisfied gleam in the queen's eyes, she doubted she was very sorry at all.

"If you're sorry, are you going to send help to Teressan? To fight Ardalan?" Beside her Rowan was still bowed, as were the other cadre, and Aelin wished they would move, wished that the queen didn't control them in such a way. The queen didn't answer her for a moment, raising her eyebrows at the directness of Aelin question, but the princess didn't have time for pleasantries and small talk about the last three years. Her family was gone, and her country stolen and she had to get it back. Even if she dreaded the thought of returning.

"No, I don't think I will." She stated it as though she were deciding whether to wear heels or flats, as though it meant so little, a trivial problem that she didn't care about.

"But, but you have to help." Aelin spluttered, stepping closer to the dais. Maeve narrowed her eyes.

"Why should I, when your parents betrayed me so all those years ago? When they ran away in the night. Why do I owe them, or you, anything?" Beside her, Rowan finally stood.

"Maeve, you can't just let Ardalan take the North. Think of the threat they would then pose, with that power." The queen turned her harsh gaze on him.

"And I'm sure that your advice has nothing to do with the desire to keep your mate in your bed for you to enjoy." Aelin blinked, confused by the statement, but she was sure it wasn't good as Rowan hissed, his jaw clenching and fists tightening.

"She is my mate, but she is still a child." Gavriel and Fenrys looked as though they were about to stop Rowan lunging at the queen for the comment, but her mate knew what would only make the situation worse. Maeve just skimmed her eyes back to Aelin, assessing again.

"But she won't be for long." It was as Aelin avoided that heavy gaze, edging further behind Rowan and clutching his hand in hers, that she noticed the dark wolf draped along the dais, facing the group, pride in his eyes to be lying beside his queen. Though she knew his wolf form to be white, Aelin had to turn her head to check that Fenrys was still stood with them, before meeting the dark wolf's gaze once more. She couldn't help but wonder why Fenrys looked at the wolf who looked so much like him with such sorrow, especially when the wolf lay at the feet of the dark queen who seemed determined to torment her. Maeve's gaze softened when she looked back to Rowan, and she looked almost wistful as she continued. "Besides, this was not how fate intended it. Aelin should not be here, not now. This was not what was planned, and things must be put on course. A shame, that she can't stay." Rowan growled, and Aelin was still trying to understand what the queen had said. Why could she not stay with her mate? When it was so clear to her that this was where she belonged, with her hand in his, by his side.

"I don't want to go somewhere else." Aelin couldn't help the small show of weakness, the hopelessness in her voice, but the queen just smiled.

"Oh, but I think you'll come around to my way of seeing things." As though hearing something Aelin couldn't, she grinned, positively feral, and Aelin wanted to shrink into a corner, to escape that look. "Lorcan," the queen commanded, "bring in our guest." Lorcan stiffened before moving to the closed throne room door, and ducking out of it for a moment, before coming back in and closing the door behind him. Aelin heard the door close behind him, but her whole world seemed to fade, as she saw who's arm Lorcan gripped, who stared at her with such intensity now, not bothering to look at anything else in the room. She didn't hesitate as she pulled her hand from Rowan's and flung herself to the figure, collapsing into the arms that were so familiar, breathing in the scent she never thought she would again. Aedion.

Aedion clung to his cousin, to her sobbing figure, and he cried with relief and with shared grief for everything that they had lost. Nothing mattered now that he was here. Not how he had arrived here, when just this morning he had been in Terressan, or what had happened. All that mattered was that he was holding her, and that they were together again. Aelin and Aedion. She didn't loosen her grip on him as she spoke through her tears.

"I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead."

"I know, I know, I know. We're ok now. We're together." He had thought… when they had told him about his aunt and uncle… everything seemed to break around him, and he was searching desperately for that fire that always seemed to light up his darkness, but she was nowhere to be found. Now they were together, and that was enough. He still held her as he glanced around the room, noting the large males, the ones who matched their depictions in his stories. He suddenly felt small, staring up at four of the males that his uncle Rhoe had told him tales about at bedtime, and staring at the wolf who he had no doubt was Connall, the other wolf of Doranelle. These past days had left him without any room for more shock, though, without any excitement or emotion aside from overwhelming love for the one piece of family he had left, who he now held in his arms. As he finally met the queen's gaze, he felt every alarm go off in his head, and he still clutched Aelin's hand as he stepped between her and the infinite threats that lay in this room. Any one of these males could hurt her so easily, no matter what she had told him after her last visit to Doranelle. A lot had changed since then. And as for the dark queen, what Aedion beheld in her eyes was enough to make him want to grab Aelin and run. But he had to be smart, had to do whatever it took to keep her safe, and running would not be the right thing. So he stood strong, holding his cousin and ready to protect them from anything that came their way. Long gone was the child's innocence that would have had him crying in a corner, clinging to his mother or aunt or uncle. Mostly, because none of those people were left alive to hold him.

Aelin wanted to sink to the floor at the crushing relief she had felt the minute that her cousin had walked trhough the door. He was alive, and she wasn't alone. Part of her family was still here, and her best friend was alright. For a moment, as he held her, and she spoke to him, she forgot everything. She forgot her parents mangled bodies as she had last seen them; she forgot the assassins waiting to kill her if she were to ever set foot inside Teressan again; she forgot the evil queen who she had no doubt was watching their reunion, calculating and plotting an advantage she could find from this situation. All she cared about was that Aedion was alive and with her again. Then Aedion put her down, still gripping her hand in his, comforting, but not painful, and stepped in front of her slightly. She had seen him do it before, when he had felt she was threatened, and though she had thought him silly, overprotective, now she wanted nothing more than to hide behind him. But she couldn't. Not as the queen gave a sickly-sweet smile, and turned her gaze on Gavriel, whose own expression was stricken as he stared at the young golden haried boy, ready to protect his cousin at all costs. Maeve seemed to take pleasure in Gavriel's confusion, but wasted no time.

"Gavriel, restrain the boy and come and stand beside me so I can get a better look." Aelin's stomach clenched, and she tightened her grip on Aedion's hand, not wanting to let go of him for a second. She wouldn't let Maeve take him. As Gavriel approached, she shook her head, pleading with him, staring at those tawny, kind eyes. Aedion held Aelin, clearly as unwilling to separate as she was, but strong hands pulled him away and Aelin whimpered as he was dragged from her.

"Please, please." It was little use, for Gavriel simply gripped Aedion's wrists behind his back and led him over to the dais, where he stopped, positioned so that Aedion still faced Aelin, but was now also visible to Maeve.

"Yes, I can see the resemblance." Aelin flinched. When anyone else said that, she was proud, happy to be compared to her beloved cousin, for the bond between them to be acknowledged, but out of Maeve's mouth it sounded like an insult. The queen truned to Aelin once more, who walked a step towards the dais, desperate to be closer to her cousin, to be able to protect him from the queen, even if it meant letting the fire swarming inside her flood the whole room, the whole palace, the whole of Doranelle. Noting the step, Maeve simply held up a finger, stopping Aelin who fought the tears threatening to spill over. She would not cry. She would not cry. "You see Aelin, you can make this easy for all of us. Simply return to Teressan, to the forest from which Fenrys should never have rescued you. You will have to find your own way out this time. Do this and your cousin and mate will be left unharmed." It took Aelin a moment to process the words, to understand what she was being asked to do; to leave her mate and cousin, and return to a country where they wanted her dead. But what else could she do? The only family she had left was in this room, and Aelin wouldn't lose them too. Still, she didn't understand.

"Why?" Maeve frowned, clearly not the response she was expecting.

"Why, what?" Aelin met her gaze finally, looking away from her cousin, his eyes sorrowful and begging her not to say yes. It was for the love that she saw in his eyes, though, that she knew she would do this. What other choice was there? Maeve was a queen, and she was only eight. Still, she deserved an explanation, if only to satisfy her curiosity.

"Why send me back? Why not let me stay here when you wanted me to stay so badly three years ago? Why not use Aedion to make me stay, not make me leave?" Maeve looked at Aelin differently then, as though she was only just seeing her properly, and leaned back in her throne, her hands draped across her lap.

"Because this was not how it was meant to be. You will come to me, Aelin Ashryver Galathnius, one day, but it is not today, and it will not be under that name that you come. Therefore, I do this to see fate righted, no matter the cost. Let's just hope you can survive those woods. You didn't do so well the first time." Maeve's eyes drifted to Aelin's stained and torn nightgown, but Aelin refused to give in, holding her small head high. After a moment, Maeve spoke again. "So, Aelin, do you accept my offer?"

"No." Rowan couldn't help the word that slipped out through gritted teeth, his hands clenched beside him, eyes moving between the small child and the deadly queen. He couldn't let this happen, couldn't let Aelin just get dumped back into whatever hellish situation had had Fenrys pulling her from a freezing river where she would likely have died. He would not let Maeve be the cause of harm for his mate, not after his actions had led to her hurting Lyria. It couldn't happen again. He wouldn't let it. Maeve barely spared him a glance as he moved for her, wanting to end this, once and for all, leashing him with simply a few words.

"Stand down, Rowan." He felt the command slam into him, felt his body tense, and felt the order push against every instinct he had. He stepped back, moved away from the dais, and managed to drag his gaze to Aelin's, where she watched him with a confused, worried expression. That expression punched through him, that loss and grief and hopelessness, and he felt it stronger than any blood oath. He could not let her suffer more loss, more pain. He would fight it, the command that kept him taking her and her cousin far away from this cursed place. And as the thought passed through him, he felt his will push back, strain against the blood oath that shackled him to a demon queen, and he knew that whatever happened, it was worth it. He staggered back, feeling every moment of it, every painful resistance. He couldn't help it, the groan that escaped him, as he felt every part of his body catch fire, before freezing. The pain was like nothing he'd ever felt, but he would keep going. To save his mate, to free her, he would do anything.

And then he heard it, beyond his own pained cries, as he slammed to the floor, his knees connecting hard with the marble floor, he heard the child's screams. The voice that was the same voice in his head, the same voice that had been in his voice for the past three years. And now it was crying. It was screaming. Not for their own pain, but screaming at something else, someone else. He tried to drown out the blood pounding in his ears, tried to focus on that voice and on what it was saying. And as he did he heard a name. Aelin was screaming out a name. His name. Her voice pierced through him, as it begged him to stop, begged him to stop hurting himself. That was all it took, and Rowan gasped for air, letting the command take him, and avoiding the resistance that had caused him so much pain. He could endure it, but he could not make his mate witness more pain, more death. And so he let go. And he breathed properly, opening his eyes to take in the room that had seemed so distant for a short time, as he tried with all his might to sever his bond to the queen now smirking down at him. But Rowan did not look at her. His eyes went straight to his mate's stricken expression, and her tear stained cheeks, as she stared across at him, their eyes meeting. It took her a moment, a moment to realise he wasn't screaming anymore, and that he was ok, when her breath shuddered out of her and she collapsed to her knees beside him, holding him tightly. Rowan stared down at her, for a second, at the child who he would give anything for, who had owned his heart from the day he met her, before wrapping his strong arms around her, and holding her, reassuring her that he was ok. She was crying, he thought, and he stroked her golden curls gently, comforting her, realising what seeing him in pain must have done.

"I'm sorry, Fireheart, I'm so sorry. I'm ok now." She leaned back staring intently into his eyes, as though measuring the sincerity of what he said, before exhaling slightly, and placing her small hand on his cheek.

"You're not allowed to hurt yourself again. I would rather go to Teressan than see you hurt like that. Please buzzard." Her voice broke on the last word, and he reached out to wipe the tear that had fallen down her cheek.

"I promise, Aelin. I won't. I promise." He watched the resolve settle in her still glassy eyes as she twisted so that she faced the queen again, though not moving from his side.

"I will do what you want, I will return to Teressan, as long as Aedion is allowed to return to Teressan, and to never have to be bothered by you again. And as long as Rowan is safe. If you promise this, then I will do as you wish." Her voice was shaking slightly, and as he heard the words, and realised what she was about to do, Rowan felt a part of him break. He would not see her again, not for a long time, and after what she was likely to endure, who knew what kind of person she would be then. But he would find her, one day, he would find her. And he would follow her, to whatever end. The dark queen grinned.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi,**

 **Thank you to everyone who has been reading and following the story. I love seeing all of your lovely comments and hearing your advice. I know this chapter is super short, but I am currently writing the next one, which will probably be a lot longer, just because of where I have decided to take the story. I hope you like it :)**

. . .

It was the river that she heard first, when she awoke; the roaring of the river that only days ago had been ready to deliver her to her death, and the memory made her shudder. It was not the memory alone that made her shudder though, as Aelin felt the cold winds whip around her, stinging her bare arms and legs. Rubbing her eyes, she opened them, sitting up sharply as she noticed her surroundings. Her vision spun, having arisen too quickly, and she placed a hand to her head, closing her eyes a moment, before opening them again. The forest was dark around her, and she could hardly see anything, but the shadows of trees looming over her, the small white nightgown, only differing to the one she had worn the last time she was in this forest in that it was untorn and mostly unstained, aside from the dirt from where she had slept on the forest floor. The leaves underneath her were frosty, and she wrapped her arms around herself, gazing out into the night, trying to clear her thoughts. What had happened? The last thing she remembered was agreeing to the dark queen's deal, and that horrible grin the queen had given her. Then it all seemed to go dark, and it was as though no time had passed since then, but it must have because it was dark outside now. She remembered other things too: Aedion's relieved expression, his warm familiar hold, Fenrys' concerned eyes, the white wolf. Where was Aedion now? The queen had probably sent him back to Teressan, and whilst Aelin wanted nothing more than to try to find him, to hold him and never let go, she knew she couldn't. The memory of Marion's blood was all too vivid in her mind. There were people hunting her and they would cut down anyone that got in the way. Aedion couldn't be one of those people, not her Aedion. There was a sound, like braches breaking, and Aelin whipped her head around, waiting for the wolf, or assassin, to emerge from behind the tree and kill her as they had done her family. Aelin wasn't safe and she never would be again. The thought made tears prick in her eyes, and she lay back down, in the dirt and the leaves, with the winter air biting her skin and through the thin material of her dress, her hands wrapped around her. Maybe it would be better if she died here, maybe it would be easier. And so, as the tears ran down her face, and Aelin cried herself to sleep, the roaring river her only lullaby, she did not worry about the threats of the forest, her teeth chattering too loudly to hear if anyone were to approach. She did not care. And yet, tucked away in a small corner of what was left of her fractured heart, Aelin reminded herself that her buzzard was no longer screaming in pain, and that she had saved him from that, if nothing else. Somewhere, Rowan was happy and that was what she used to push away the nightmares that came.

When Arobynn Hamel found the little girl in the forest, her lips were blue, and her hair frosted over. For a moment, he thought she was dead, but her lips were moving, ever so slightly, and as he stared down at the child, her golden hair, and delicate expression, he couldn't help but wonder. He had heard, of course, what had happened in Teressan. Everyone had. But in this little part of the forest, so close, to have found such a girl. He hauled the girl into his arms, holding her close in attempt to stop her shaking, and she didn't open her eyes, didn't even awake, but he still heard her faint whisper as she leant into his warmth. "Buzzard."

. . .


	7. Chapter 7

**I know it's been a while, but I really love this story and want to make sure I take it in the right direction. I really loved writing this chapter, so I hope you like reading it. Hearing what you think of my writing - especially the lovely reviews and advice this story has received - is one of my favourite things.**

. . .

THREE YEARS LATER

Celaena Sardothian sat looking out of her window in the Assassin's Keep, watching the night as she did every year on this day. It was raining outside, and getting too dark to see, but it didn't matter, because she would stay here all night, waiting, just waiting. She hugged her knees to her as she stared, hoping desperately to see a flash of silver hair, or that familiar silhouette come striding to the Keep's door, and take her away from this place. She was safe here, she knew that, or at least safer than she would be anywhere else, but every year, she let herself imagine for one day that he was coming, and that they would run far away where there were no dark queens, or tyrant Kings, or people to miss. Those years ago, she had run, and she was glad, because if she had stayed she would have been dead by now, butchered like…No. She wouldn't think about that, or them. That wasn't who she was anymore. Her name was Celaena Sardothian, and she liked it better that way. A name that belonged to her, a name bearing none of the weight of her last one. She was in control of her own life. And still she sat, still she waited. Because however far she'd gone, however she had pushed herself to forget, to leave it all behind, to keep safe, that bond had stayed. The bond that seemed to shine all the way to a kingdom far away, with wolves and queens and a male who smelled of pine and snow. It made her feel safe, made her think that maybe, if he could feel it too, he would follow it and he would come. But it had been three years, and still she watched the night pass by, to no avail.

Three years ago, when she had woken up in the keep, with a man with red hair and a strange smile striding into the room, her first thought had been of her family. How could she get back to her family? But then she realised that there was not a lot of family to get back to. Everything washed over her, and she bit her lip hard to keep from crying out at the pain of the memories. Dead, her parents were dead, and her uncle and so many of the people she had grown up with. Rowan and Fenrys and Gavriel had saved her, but they had let the Queen send her away, let her threaten Aedion. Aedion. He was alive, alive and returned to Teressan. The queen had promised that much. But what was left of Teressan to be sent back to. She had just wanted him to be safe, to be alive, and that was more probable if she wasn't near him. If she wasn't around at all. So, she had agreed to the queen's terms, had stopped Rowan from hurting himself to help. And she had been sent to the river. She remembered the rushing of the ice-cold waters, and the cold of the air around her, and having fallen asleep. Her lip had started to bleed she was biting on it so hard, and the strange man saw and smiled wider, as though it was some great accomplishment.

"A fighter," he nodded to her lip, and she raised her hand to wipe away to drop of blood self-consciously, not dropping the man's gaze. She didn't want to seem weak. "Though I suppose I already knew that since you managed to survive the winter's freezing forests. That cold should have killed you." She looked to her hands at that. It had killed her. It had killed Aelin Ashryver Galathnius. After a moment of silence, the man spoke again. "What is your name?" She lifted her gaze to his and read the expression that hung on his face, somewhere between amused and cruel. He may have rescued her, but he was not a kind man, she could tell that. And yet, there was something that made her feel safe, and cared for. Did he know who she was? What did he want from her? "Well, what is you name?" She would not shy away from the challenge in his eyes, and she sat up a little straighter, narrowing her eyes and giving him a mistrusting smile. She had shed her old identity like a snake shed it skin, and some of the pain brewing inside her seemed to dull, and her courage grew. Aelin Ashryver Galathnius was dead, but she could become someone else, someone different.

"I'm Celaena. Celaena Sardothian. Who are you?"

Celaena remembered that first encounter now, remembered the moment she had decided who she would become, but even then, she could not have forseen where she would be now. She had spent the morning learning to throw knives with perfect precision, and the afternoon practicing her ability to recognise poisons from scent alone. Every day was training and pain and killing, but this was where she was now, who she was now. She could not go back. Knowing that fact did not stop her waiting, watching the window. There was a knock on the door, and Celaena had just grabbed her throwing knives, not having to move from the window seat to do so, when Ben pushed the door open and peered his head into the room, his eyes locking on where Celaena sat by the window. He gave a small smile and walked further into the room, leaning on the wall opposite Celaena and following her gaze out into the night.

"What's so interesting out there?" A foolish dream that could never come true.

"Nothing." Wrapping her arms around her knees, she hoped that Ben didn't see through her lie. He may be the kindest person she had met in the Keep, the person she trusted the most here, but she couldn't possibly share the real thoughts on her mind. How would she explain, anyway, that she was waiting for someone that she had told to let her go? That could never come for her anyway? And she hated him for it. She couldn't help but hate him, even though none of this was his fault, but he hadn't come for her, even when she had been so sure he would have. Ben perched on the window seat beside her, taking one of the knives that still sat in Celaena's hands, and twirling it between his fingers, absent-mindedly. Still looking out of the window, he looked wistful for a moment.

"You did well today." Celaena remembered a time when that praise would have made her happy. Now it reminded her of everything she was becoming. She wanted to be an assassin, that was what she was training for. She wanted the power that came with the choices she had now. She wanted people to fear her. And they did. They feared her.

"I know." Ben glanced sideways at her, but she pretended not to notice, focussing her stare into the night. Still, her attention was on him. Ben was a good person, somehow, despite who his was, and she knew that he was kind. He had proved it when he had wrapped her injuries and knocked on her door after he came back from a job to let her know he got back safely. He was also Arobynn's second, one of the deadliest assassin's in Ardalan, and he loved it. He loved the fight, the thrill, the control, as much as she did. But sometimes, he seemed as though he didn't belong here at all, looked like someone who had just woken up, lost, not knowing where they were. She felt like that sometimes. "What did you leave behind when you came here?" Her voice was quiet and she didn't look at him still. He took a moment, breathing deeply, and his stare was heavy and evaluating upon her.

"Not much. A drunken father and mother who couldn't stand the sight of me. I found more of a family here than I ever had out there." He gestured into the night, and she looked to him finally. His expression was sad now, gazing away from her, as though he could see whole worlds through the window that were invisible to her. "I had a friend, though. My best friend. She was…She was all I had. And I left her behind." His jaw tightened, and Celaena thought of Aedion. She had left him behind. She knew he was out there, and still she stayed here, looking out for herself, because the alternative meant facing everything, and she just couldn't. Ben turned his gaze back to Celaena, eyes full of concern, likely at the questions she was asking. "Who did you leave behind?"

"There wasn't much of a family left for me to leave behind." The words were the truth, and she thought of her parents' mutilated bodies, of Marion's screams, of the cruel queen's threats to her cousin. She had lost her life, and now she was building a new one. That was what she had to focus on. But she couldn't bring herself to move from the window.

"But there was someone?" Silver hair and green eyes flashed in her mind, and she thought of the last time she had seen her mate, how she had begged him to stop hurting himself.

"How can you tell?" Her words were whispered, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. Ben's smile was sad, and he tucked a stray strand of golden hair behind one of her ears.

"Because you sit at this window and wait." Celeana had no response to that, no comeback for the truth. Ben waited a moment, before standing and moving towards the door. Before he slipped out though, he paused again. "Celaena," she turned her head to face him and he gave a small nod to the window behind her. "Don't wait too long. It only makes it harder when they don't come." With that, he slipped out of the door, and Celaena kept her eyes on the door a moment before turning back to the window once more. What good did it do her to wait for someone who was never coming? To long for a life that had never been possible for her? He wasn't coming for her. Noone was coming for her. This was her life now, she was Celaena Sardothian, and that was all she was. And so, burying that bond that tethered her to a male across the ocean, pushing it below everything, until she couldn't feel it anymore, Celaena turned away from the window, and she never waited again.


	8. Chapter 8

**I know I haven't posted in ages but I have had serious writer's block when it comes to this story, and have been writing other things instead. However, I just finished my exams and fully intend to return to this story and hope to post more soon as I am really enjoying writing it and I am hoping that you are enjoying reading it.**

 **. . .**

The next morning, Celaena was sparring with Ben, their daggers glinting as they whirled around the training ring. Still, she could feel that he was going easy on her, and it only made her throw herself into the fight more. One day, she would be able to beat him, and he would be begging for her to go easy on him. One day she would be able to beat every assassin in the keep. Her blade hit his again and again, and Celaena honed in on it completely, the contact of the blades, the sound of metal on metal, embracing the fight. She loved it, now, the fight, and the power it gave her. Much more than she had loved it three years ago, when her hands had ached after throwing knives. Now the hilt of the daggers fit into her calloused hands, a familiar weight that helped her focus, that made her feel strong. She was good at it, too. She knew that, from the way the other assassins looked at her. From the way Arobynn looked at her. Like she was one of the smartest moves he ever made. And she loved it, feeling valued, good for something other than her blood. She was strong, and so she grinned as she sparred, even as Ben feigned left, and swept her feet from under her, leaving her on the floor with a dagger to her neck. After a moment, he stood, reaching out a hand to help her to her feet and she gladly took it, still smiling, exhilaration running through her.

"Next time." She always promised that. Next time she would beat him. She could beat so many of them now, the assassins, and even after she had displayed her skills, they never saw it coming. Not from the pretty little girl, with the golden curls and a disarming smile when she chose to use it. And her enemies never would either. Sheathing her daggers and moving to the edge of the ring, Celaena noticed Sam watching her from where he stood, throwing knives in hand, with one already embedded in the target. Perfectly, more to her annoyance. Walking over to the target beside him, she coolly ignored his gaze, which he returned quickly to his own target, taking up his stance to throw another blade.

"You fought well." She didn't turn her head as he spoke, and fought her scowl. He had seen her lose, and he felt the need to draw attention to it. It wasn't as though he could beat Ben, who was the second-best assassin in the Keep, after Arobynn.

"I didn't realise you were watching." She let out a short breath and let one of the daggers fly, smiling slightly as it hit its exact target.

"It's always good to check out the competition." He let his third dagger fly, before moving to the target to collect them. Examining where his knife had flown slightly to the right, Celaena gave him a small smile that she knew made him irate.

"Not much of a competition." He frowned slightly, not at the hurtful remark, but as though confused as to what could have made her say it. He moved back to his place beside her.

"Did you learn to fight before you came to the guild?" Celaena whipped her head to face him, feeling the colour drain from her face. Why would he say that? Did he know something about her? Laughing slightly at her reaction, Sam raised one eyebrow at her wide eyes. "I just mean that someone must have taught you how to maintain such a big ego." Her panic subsided; it was just Sam, making another sniping comment, but it didn't stop the thoughts that his comment brought up. She had flashes of memories, of a golden haired boy throwing her over his shoulder, of laughing together as he taught her the basics. Pushing the thoughts back, pushing them deep down, Celaena turned back to her target, glowering as she flung her last dagger with all her might, feeling no satisfaction this time, even as it sunk into exactly her intended spot on the target. She removed the daggers, and placed them back on a weapons rack, before moving back to where Sam stood.

"You're not supposed to ask about life before the Guild. And if you ever do again, I'll show you why my ego's so big, fighting in the ring. So, mind your own business, Sam Courtland." With that, she stalked from the room, glare still fixed in place, frustrated with the world. Frustrated with Sam, for his comments. Frustrated with herself, for letting him see how much he had gotten under her skin. Frustrated with the memories that wouldn't go away. When she returned to the training room later, Sam was no longer there, and she didn't know where he was, but as long as she didn't have to talk to him, she didn't care.

They could have been friends, she guessed, had they been different people. The only two youths in the Keep, it would have made sense. Maybe even made things a little less lonely. But not her and Sam. There would always be that competition between them, that knowledge that they were only trying to edge each other for the top spot in the keep. Besides, Celaena had lost enough people, and she didn't need to lose anymore, and not losing people tended to be a lot easier when you didn't make friends with the people around you. There had always been something about Sam that frustrated Celaena to no end. And how they had met hadn't helped. It had been during her first days in the Keep, and Celaena had mostly stayed in her room, recovering, trying to wrap her head around what had happened. That was when she had heard a voice. A young male voice. And she had fled from her bed, running out into the hall in her nightgown, searching around for him. For her Aedion, who she thought had somehow found her, despite everything. She thought he had come for her. Who she had found instead, was a young boy with brown hair and brown eyes, and in that moment, Celaena had felt the most crushing disappointment, that she had retreated to her room, ignoring his attempts to introduce himself, and fighting the tears. No, she could not be friends with Sam Courtland. Not because of who he was, because she was sure if she really tried, she could get past his annoying comments, or his competitive nature or even his distaste for her. No, she and Sam could not be friends because of who he was not, who he would never be, and who she had so desperately wanted him to be.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ahhhh! I love writing this story but am seriously getting writer's block with it at the moment and find it so much easier to write other things. My exams just finished so I should be updating more regularly, and don't worry, I'm determined to continue. I love receiving reviews from you guys, and hearing what you think about the story so far. I am also glad that you look forwards to more updates, and hope that I can give them to you. Enjoy :)**

 **. . .**

Celaena was sat in her room later that evening, in the middle of a book, when there was a soft knock on the door. One of the maids peeked their head through the door, peering around until she saw Celaena, who looked at her with impatience, eager to return to her book. The servant bowed her head in acknowledgment before speaking.

"Arobynn requests your presence in his office, miss." Celaena gave the servant a nod and she ducked quickly from the room. She sighed as she placed her book on the coffee table beside the comfy armchair in which she had been lounging, and pulled on her boots. She was still dressed from earlier, and if Arobynn had a mission for her, then she might have to leave immediately. Celaena walked quickly to the office, knowing it was not done to keep Arobynn waiting, and gave a sharp knock on the doors, waiting to be called in before entering. Arobynn was sat at his desk, looking over a sheet of paper, and barely looked up as Celaena entered the room.

"You summoned me." He glanced up at her as she spoke, as though only just realising she was there despite having been the one to call her into his office, and smiled. Standing, and moving around the desk, Arobynn perched on the back of the desk, examining Celaena carefully. She could not help but feel intimidated under his heavy gaze, but she did not show it, standing tall, chin up. Finally, Arobynn spoke.

"You have been doing well at the keep, Celaena. One of my best investments." The pride she felt battled with the disgust at being referred to as an investment, but still, Celaena did not change her expression, watching him and waiting for more. "Because of this, I would like to train you in my image. My prodigy, if you will. Do you wish this?" It was not really a question, and Celaena gave the only answer that there was.

"Yes, of course, master." He grinned, a thing of cruelty and malice and greed.

"Then we start tonight. Follow me." Celaena had no choice but to follow as he swept from the room, quickly making his way through the house, and her heart pounded as she realised where they were going.

Celaena had never been in the dungeons herself, but she had heard the screams coming from them sometimes. They had been like bedtime stories to her so many nights, with screams of pain and grief and torture chasing her into her dreams. She had never asked, never wanted to know, but now, Arobynn was leading her into the dungeons and she wished more than anything that she could turn around and return to her book. It was a book filled with romance and worlds where things seemed to occur in a perfect pattern that always ended in a happily ever after. Reality was very far from this. The steps were stone, but it was not dark, as she had imagined, as she walked past doors to rooms she never wanted to see, with burning torches lining the hallway, so that Celaena could see perfectly when Arobynn stopped and used a large ring of keys to open one of the doors. Stepping into the room behind him, Celaena found it was not disgusting as she had imagined, or filled with the things of nightmares. It was just a room, with white walls, and white tiles on the floor, and a large table in the centre. But on that table, strapped down by ropes and manacles and wires, lay a man, gagged by a white cloth. And as Arobynn handed her a blade, Celaena realised that the room was not filled with nightmares, because what they were going to do to this man would be a nightmare in itself.

They were in the room for almost two hours, until the man was finally left for dead, and Celaena was excused back to her room. It had been two hours of blood and screams and Celaena felt the brutal images burning behind her eyes, branded on her memory. Her clothes were covered in the man's blood, and some of it was even matted in her hair. She couldn't make eye contact with anyone as she made her way through the keep and back to her room. She had done awful things, had killed more people than she could count, but that…Celaena rushed to the bathroom as soon as she was inside her room, vomiting. She shook as she hurled up her guts again and again, shivering on the bathroom tiles. His screams still echoed through her mind, and she tried desperately to forget all the places her blade had met his skin, every drop of his blood she had spilt. But how could she when it still coated her hands and arms and clothes? The stench of it overwhelmed her and she was vomiting again as the smell hit her properly. She cried as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the basin, and couldn't find the strength to look up when she felt someone kneel down beside her. Gentle hands were holding back her hair, and stroking her back, and Celaena didn't bother to check who it was, knowing there was only one person in this keep who would do this for her.

Ben didn't speak as he knelt beside her, just waited until she had finished gagging, and she sank back onto her heels, still shaking, silent sobs racking through her. After a few moments, Ben stood, reaching his hand down to help Celaena from the floor, and she looked up at him through her tears.

"Come on." His voice was gentle, but there was command in it, that had Celaena taking his hand and rising to her feet. She couldn't bring herself to speak, the shame and hatred and disgust still strong within her, along with the humiliation that Ben had seen it. She should be able to do this without breaking down. She was an assassin. But Ben did not speak with pity, nor with anger. Instead her spoke with a strong kindness and comfort that Celaena had not felt for many years. "You're going to take off those bloody clothes, and you are going to wash the blood off your skin. Then you are going to get ready for bed, and you are going to go to sleep, and tomorrow you are going to wake up and you are going to keep going. Because you have to keep going." Celaena looked up at him, took in his caring expression and the solution he was offering her, and she let out a shaky breath.

"Why?" He knew what she meant. Why was he helping her? Why did he show her kindness?

"Because you are a strong person. And you are only a child." Celaena returned her gaze to the floor, thinking how she felt aged by everything over the years, and even though she was young, it had been a long time since she had been allowed to be a child. But she was strong. She had to be strong. And so, she walked into her room behind the screen, and pulled off the bloody clothes, before slipping on her silky robe and making her way to the bath that Ben had already run for her. And so, she soaked in the lavender smelling water, bubbles floating around her, and she washed the day off her. And when she walked out of the bathroom, having pulled on her nightgown, she found that her dirty clothes were gone, and Ben was sitting on the edge of her bed, holding her book in his hands. Slipping beneath the covers, Celaena watched as ben opened the book to the page she had been reading, and started to read to her.

"You don't have to." Celaena said, and Ben looked at her, giving her a small smile.

"I know." And he kept reading. And for the first time in years, Celaena fell asleep that night and did not have a nightmare. Instead she dreamed of the heroes in her stories, who were strong and faced the world. And she knew that even though tomorrow, neither she nor Ben would acknowledge what had been said that evening or what had happened, because that was not the people they were and that was not the place that the Keep was, she would remember that for one evening she had felt a little less alone.


	10. Chapter 10

**Dear Readers,**

 **I know that this has been a long time coming and I'm sorry to say that it is shorter than I would have wanted. I am determined to return my attention to this story, because I love it so much, but to say that me and this story have not seen eye to eye recently is an** **understatement. I have had the worst case of writer's block I have ever had, and every good idea I have gets shot down with the fact that t would remove crucial elements to the story. My problem is that whilst this story will be very different to the original tale, there are many elements of Aelin's life that make her the strong willed, fiery, determined, loving woman that we love so much, and I am desperate not to cut any of these parts out. Then again, being a huge Rowaelin shipper, I need my babies reunited, and SOON! Basically, this story is hard but I am definitely going to keep writing it and much of that is because of all teh wodnerful feedback and support I have received. Anyway, here is a chapter from Rowan's POV.**

 **FireheartMatilda xx**

. . .

It killed him. Every moment of the last three years had killed him. It was different than before, when he had felt some victory in her escape, some joy that she was untouchable to Maeve. That had been two years. But everything had changed the minute Fenrys had blinked into existence, holding Rowan's fragile mate in his arms. She was nearly dead. So close to dead. And he would have been too. Rowan had known from their first meeting that life without her would be dim. Pointless. She was his everything. Somehow, this young, strong willed, fragile little girl had become his everything. And now she was gone. He didn't know where, or if she was safe. He didn't know who she was now. Because Aelin Galathnius was dead. The whole world knew that. She had decided it would be that way from the moment she had agreed to Maeve's pact. To save her cousin, and to save Rowan, she would give herself up to a world that was waiting to stab her in the back. So she would not be Aelin. Aelin was dead. Who was she now? Rowan didn't know. For years, he had been living with the agony. The pain that came with not being able to go to her, to help her, to keep her safe. He was trapped in this life, the same way she was trapped in hers, and every moment was a fresh wound. Rowan wanted to die. He would have done a long time ago, if it wasn't for one thing. She was coming back. One day, she was coming back. And she would not face Maeve alone when she did.

Waking up in the morning, Rowan sat straight up, out of bed in moments. These days, it did not take him long to drag himself from the sheets, when nightmares about Aelin chased him away. What she was going through, he didn't know. And that haunted him. Pulling on his clothes, Rowan dragged his hand over face, wishing he could erase his subconscious. Imagining where she was, if she was okay, was bad enough. The images his dreams brought him made it so much worse. He remembered the first year. Each morning, Maeve had ordered him from his bed, pulling him to the throne room with her invisible leash that he despised so much, before forcing him to recount his nightmares to her and whatever selection of the cadre she chose. And he couldn't claw her eyes out the way he wanted to when she laughed like a child being told a story. He could only kneel. Do exactly as she desired.

There was a knock on Rowan's door, and he turned towards it, gaze hollow as Fenrys entered. His cadre brother looked concerned as he took in Rowan. He hadn't had time to put up his barriers yet. The barriers that he kept up to keep the world seeing the permanent state of grief he lived in. The look that his brothers gave him now, like he was broken. And he was. There wasn't enough left in him to argue. Fenrys' face looked pained as he delivered his message.

"Maeve wants us to report in the throne room." Rowan clenched his jaw, feeling the demand settle in his bones, willing his to obey. He detested the feeling with everything that he was, but he nodded stiffly to Fenrys, who paused in the door, looking as though he wanted to say something, but thought the better of it, leaving without another word. Rowan did not care. He couldn't bring himself to care. It wouldn't be better. Not until he was with her again, and could help her. That was all he needed. To keep her safe. And he couldn't even do that.

He didn't bother to try delaying the blood oath the way he had used to. She only punished him for it. Not in lashings, or beatings, but in teasing. In offhand comments about a starving child in Teressan, or the consequences of Ardalan's invasion. Enough to make him want to scream. Now he just obeyed. He would not tempt himself into breaking the blood oath, only to die before he could help his mate. And he would not want her to feel the pain of losing a mate. He knew that pain. Or he thought he had. Before. With Lyria.

Rowan had to push the name from his thoughts. When he was with her, with the queen, it was safer not to think. Safer to forget, to focus. And so he would. But one day, one day he would not push it away. He would walk into this throne room, and he would do it by the side of his mate, protecting her. Always. To whatever end.


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm actually pretty proud of this chapter, and I loved writing it. Especially the end, because I love Samlaena. This chapter reminded me why I love this story. Please review, because it actually makes my day. If I get a nice review from people who seem to care about my story, I will be in a good mood all day, and I tell my family. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 _. . ._

THREE YEARS LATER

Celaena danced through the crowds, twirling under the arms of men and spinning to avoid the women's skirts. She loved these parties. She loved the music, the dancing and the joy amongst the people. It reminded her of the life she had once had, a life far away from Rifthold where there was a lot more dancing. She didn't have much time left, she knew. Arobynn wanted to make the introductions quickly – he had business to attend to at the Guild – and she wanted to get to the theatre in time. Still, she would savor what time she had, and she did, whirling under the chandelier, her head tipped back, her dusty rose skirts spilling out around her, and her golden hair shining in the candlelight. The rise and fall of the violin bows continued, until finally the dance was over, and Celaena was dizzy, sparkling like the glass of bubbly liquid Arobynn had given her upon arrival. She was working, she knew, but she would at least have a little fun first. Alas, her fun was over, and she made her way to the edge of the dance floor, her eyes scanning over the party. Anyone would think she was scouting her next partner, or taking in the beauty, but she was seeing everything. Every person, every entrance and exit, every possible flaw in her plan. Then finally, her eyes rested on two familiar figures speaking in an alcove, partially covered by a coloured silk sheet. A small smile came to her lips, and she made her way elegantly across the floor once more, with a predator's grace, to meet the two gentlemen her night revolved around.

As Celaena approached, she heard Arobynn's laughter, joined by another's, and took this as her entrance cue. Sidling up beside Arobynn, she gave him her well-practiced sweet smile.

"Uncle, I lost you for a moment." She said, smoothing out her dress' skirts, and keeping her eyes on him.

"It seemed you lost yourself in the music for a moment." Celaena blushed, hoping he didn't disapprove of her partying whilst she was working, but Arobynn smiled down at her, approval in his gaze, his face so kind. She had seen this mask before, but it still surprised her how at odds with him usual demeanor it was. She supposed people said the same thing about her. "Apologies, I must introduce you." Arobynn turned back to the man he had been speaking with, smiling good naturedly.

Celaena also turned her attention to the man, smiling demurely, her eyes narrowing as she took him in. This was her target, and whilst they might not have been introduced, she knew so much about him. She knew about his strong acquaintances with the brothels of the city, and his wife and children living in the country. He had not yet told the city of their separation, but Celaena knew. She also knew about his business rival, the man who had hired them to take care of him. Still, she might as well make introductions. "Antonio, this is my dear niece Dianna Brackyn. Dianna, this is Antonio Veste, an old friend of mine." Celaena wondered if Antonio heard the venomous tone Arobynn used to describe him. Maybe it was only audible to her well trained ear. She liked to think she was fluent in Arobynn's moods. Antonio took Celaena's hand, kissing it softly, and giving her a slow smile.

"A pleasure, my lady." Celaena wanted to vomit, but ignored the way his eyes roamed over her body, and instead gave him a shy smile, curtseying before him, ever the young minded niece. At fourteen, Celaena knew their ruse was believable. She had been playing Dianna for two years now, and she knew exactly how to do it. It made it easier, to meet her targets. Not for her conscience, but practically, it made things easier.

"Are you enjoying the party?" She asked, eyeing the group of what she assumed were business associates of him lying behind them on the hidden beds set up, a group of ladies joining them. She wondered how many of them were much older than her. Sometimes this city made her sick.

"Immensely so," Antonio grinned around him, looking completely in his element. "I wish nights like this could go on forever." That was what she needed. A confirmation that he would be staying. For a while at least. This way she could be certain that by the time she returned, he would be leaving. She gave him another smile, before turning back to Arobynn, giving him a sweet smile.

"We should really go if we are going to make it to the theatre on time, Uncle." He nodded, and smiled down at her, showing his approval at her plan. He knew she could take it from here.

"Of course, dear. I'm sure we shall meet again soon, Antonio." The man bowed his head to Arobynn, who simply grinned lazily, extending his arm to Celaena. She placed her hand on his, and they turned making their way through the party, and to the exit.

The pair walked into the cobbled street, and Celaena curtseyed to her master. They would part ways now, him back to the theatre and her into the city, to bide her time before she would return and complete her task. When she straightened up again, Arobynn gave her a smile, not one like the kind ones he had given her in front of Antonio, but a smile she was much more familiar with. It was the smile that told her he was proud of his investment in her. That she was worth it. It was the best she could hope for. In the dark street, the King of Assassins leaned down, his lips touching the young girl's ear as he whispered to her.

"Well executed, my dear. Take your time." That was his parting message, and Celaena watched as he swept away up the street, meeting his coach, and was carried away into the city. Celaena would not be following for a few hours at least, and she turned the opposite way, fulling up the heavy hood of her wine coloured, velvet cloak, and making her way around the corner. She stuck to the shadows, her silver heels silent against the cobblestone streets. Dressed how she was, she would be a target in this city, with her gorgeous dusty rose gown, and the silver detailing climbing up the flowing skirts. Not that she couldn't beat her assailant, even without the two daggers strapped to her thighs, and one embedded in her bodice. It would be inconvenient though, and she didn't wish to be late for the theatre.

It took her a matter of minutes to reach the theatre and she slipped into the back door, overcoming the lock easily, and making her way to Arobynn's box. The performance had not yet started, and she seated herself in Arobynn's booth, not bothering to keep herself hidden anymore. She leaned forwards, watching the stage eagerly, placing her cloak on the chair beside her, and readying herself. The theatre was alive that evening, people swarming in the stalls and the boxes, the excited chatter of those attending the performance drifting up to Celaena's seat. She didn't have long, but she would stay as long as she could. Sometimes, this theatre was the only place in the city that she felt truly at home, and she would make the most of every minute.

Celaena felt her heart stop as the music started. It was such a familiar piece that she felt herself flung back to a time before this one, where she had a different name, and a family around her. She so rarely thought of it anymore, tried so desperately to force it from her thoughts, but that evening it was impossible. Listening to the melody that filled the theatre, she remembered herself as a child. She remembered hovering at the door as she watched her father play the piano so beautifully. She remembered clapping when he finished, and how he had turned to her, smiling before scooping her up and placing her on the piano beside him. He had wrapped an arm around her, placing his hand over hers as he pressed her fingers to the keys, recreating a much slower version of the music he had just created. He had played with her the same piece that now danced through the theatre in Rifthold. Tears filled Celaena's eyes, and she didn't bother to blink them away as the music swallowed her up. She lost all sense of her surroundings, and just for a minute, she was no longer the assassin in Rifthold, but she was a little girl, sat beside her father, breathing in his familiar scent. Then it was gone again, as the final notes were played. As Celaena returned to reality, she longed for the song to begin again, to hear once more the melody of her childhood, but the music moved on, creating new beautiful pieces. Celaena barely heard them, her mind clinging to the fragments of her father's piece that she remembered. She would let herself forget that, the same way she had forgotten so many other things. She just couldn't.

Her mind was still on the music later that evening when she leaned against the wall of the alley, her velvet hood covering her face once more. It was colder than earlier, but she could hardly feel it, all of her senses waiting for the familiar figure to approach in the darkness. She didn't have to wait long. After less than an hour, Celaena observed as Antonio staggered up the alley, clearly intoxicated after the party. She waited until he passed before stepping out into the streetlight, allowing her shoes to make a sound on the cobblestones. Hearing the noise, Antonio turned, looking concerned for a moment, before he took her in.

"Dianna," he slurred, stepping towards her, eyes raking over her figure. "We meet again." For a drunk, he had a good eye, and Celaena was surprised he even remembered her. It wouldn't be a problem for long. Still, she waited. She knew her tactic. He would come close, she was sure, and then her job would be done.

As expected, Antonio continued towards her, leering, and as he stepped closer, she could smell the spirits on him. Resisting the urge to wrinkle her nose, she kept her face expressionless. Just a few more steps. He moved faster than she would have thought, grabbing her hand and spinning her so she was pressed against the wall, his imposing figure looming over her. She had no need to be afraid, she was an assassin, one of the best in Rifthold, and she was in no danger. Her dagger was drawn before he could touch her, and she plunged it into his gut, knowing the exact spot that would kill him quickly. She didn't like to drag it out, not if she didn't have to. She just wanted to get back to the Guild. She watched the shock flash in his eyes as he registered what had happened, his eyes going to hers, before moving to his wound, and Celaena pushed him back, switching their places so he was against the wall. He would die in the shadows, and he wouldn't be found until morning. A small smile played on her lips, before she looked down at her gown, frowning at the crimson stain across the front of it. She wouldn't get it out, she knew that. At least she could shop with the money this job earned her. Quickly sheathing her dagger in her thigh holster, she leaned forwards, giving Antonio a quick smile.

"Do me a favor and keep quiet," she whispered, winking before she stepped back, pulling her cloak around her to cover the stain, and walking down the alleyway, not bothering to stick to the shadows, as she made her way home.

Walking into the Guild, Celaena hummed the piano melody under her breath, attempting to banish every memory of Antonio's gaze and his hands on her skin. She would focus on the beauty of the evening. When she did what she did, it was all she could do to focus on the beauty in life; there wasn't much of it. The door to Arobynn's office was open as she walked past, her footsteps silent as she made her way through the Guild. Still, he heard her. She was sure he was the only person in the Guild she couldn't sneak up on.

"Did you have a good evening, Celaena?" He called out to her, and she stopped, leaning on the doorframe and looking in to where his head was bent over some papers. She knew what her answer was expected to be. 'Yes, I did.' It was what she said every time he asked her. Because it was what he wanted to hear, and what she needed to say. When he asked her tonight, though, all she could hear was the melody in her head, and the feeling of her father's hands on hers as he taught her.

"I did. I had a good evening." She could hear the sincerity in her voice, and it seemed that Arobynn could too, because he looked up in surprise, his eyes taking her in for a moment, before he grinned.

"I'm glad," he responded, going back to his papers, and Celaena took this as her dismissal. She knew what that grin had meant. He believed she had enjoyed the murder. And he was glad.

Lying in bed, Celaena stared up at the ceiling, her eyes wide. She just couldn't get her mind off that feeling of being in her father's arms. The melody played over and over in her head, and she huffed out, frustrated. It was the early hours by now, and she had wanted a lie in the next day, but she could hardly have that if she never got to sleep. Finally giving up on attempting to sleep, she swung her legs over the edge of her double bed, running a hand through her silky hair, slightly tangled from her tossing and turning. She was wearing the pretty olive green, short satin nightgown, and moved to the door of her wardrobe, grabbing her white silk dressing gown that had the cherry blossom detailing, and wrapping it around her. She stepped into her grey fluffy slippers too, before making her way out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. If she couldn't sleep, she could at least do something with her time, and so she silently made her way through the guild.

When she reached the end of the corridor, she slipped into the room there, letting out a breath of relief. It relaxed her in here. This room wasn't used much by many of the assassins, but it had been here ever since she had come. The grand piano hadn't been added until Arobynn had decided she needed to develop some finer skills that didn't involve knives. It was unofficially hers, not that others couldn't use it, but she tended to take it out on them in the ring. It was her happy place. Not this evening though. This evening she had to find that melody.

Sitting down at the piano, Celaena placed her fingers tentatively on the keys, pressing carefully. She didn't want to be too loud, and wake the rest of the guild. Her eyes closed as she searched her memory for the notes, trying to replicate what she had heard earlier that evening. The first few notes were easy, a simple scale, but then she stumbled, cursing under her breath. Again she tried, and got a little further before messing up. She wanted it to come naturally, but it was too long ago, the memory focussed on the feeling of safety, not the notes being played.

Celaena stayed in the library for another half an hour, never making it past the opening section, and her curses grew louder and louder each time. Why could she not remember it? Shouldn't she have held onto what her father had taught her? She hated it more and more every time. But she wouldn't leave, she wouldn't give in. Not until she had gotten it. So she played on. Playing and cursing, playing and cursing. Until she was interrupted.

"You know, you can curse at it all you want, but it'll still be you pressing the keys." Sam chuckled from the doorway, and Celaena jumped up from the piano stool, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It defeats the purpose of spying if you announce your presence, Sam Cortland." Celaena said indignantly, still frustrated at having been court struggling.

"And why would I be spying on a bratty assassin who can't play the pianoforte?" He mocked, and she raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe you were hoping to learn something." Sam scoffed at her arrogance, but she just rolled her eyes. "How should I know? You were the one hovering in the doorway whilst I played." He laughed again, looking back to the piano.

"I'm not sure if what you were doing constitutes as playing." She knew it was true that she had been failing, but she blushed at having it pointed out. She was too tired to keep her mask in place, the one she kept up to keep people out. Instead, she let him see how his words hurt her. Maybe it would even make him feel bad.

"I'm going to bed, rather than waste time listening to your critique of my playing." Celaena said, her usual malice restored to her tone, and she moved past Sam and towards the door. She was about to slam it behind her, despite the sleeping assassins, when she heard the sound that stopped her dead in her tracks. The melody.

The notes soared and danced, just how she remembered her father playing it, and Celaena moved back into the room, transformed just like she had been in the theatre. Sam's back was to her as he finished playing, and she wondered if he knew she was there.

"How did you do that?" She asked, her voice a whisper in the night. He turned back to look at her, his face different to usual. He looked kinder, more open. More Sam.

"My mother taught me when I was a child. It was her favourite. It's the only piece I can play, but I am well practiced in it." Celaena swallowed the lump in her throat as she nodded, turning back to the door, as she wondered if she and Sam were so different after all. Still the melody haunted her. "Would you like me to teach you?" Sam's voice stopped her once more, and she turned back to face him, frowning slightly. He sounded almost hopeful.

"Why would you do that?" It wasn't generosity; such a thing didn't exist in the Guild. Sam hesitated a moment, before his usual smile came to his face. Normally she wanted to smack that smile off his face.

"Maybe I don't want to get woken up again by you cursing at three in the morning." She scoffed a little, looking back to the door, biting her lip. "I don't mind. Really." Sam said, and she made her decision. Walking over to the piano stool, she sat down beside him, looking at his hands on the keys.

"Show me," she ordered, and they began.

For almost an hour, they stayed there, as he played a section and then she copied, and Celaena forgot about her mask for a time. She let herself remember the piece as Sam walked her through it step by step. Finally, it seemed as though she might have it, and she played through the piece almost seamlessly, until she stumbled. Reaching out to correct her, Sam wound his arm around her, placing his hands over hers and playing through the notes. For the third time that evening, Celaena found herself remembering her father's arms around her as he taught her. He was so patient, so kind. She remembered how he clapped every time she had gotten it right. How he had called her mother in to watch them play together and how she, too, had applauded. How she had forgotten her powers, and her title, for a moment, and just been a daughter who had loved her parents. But she wasn't that child anymore. She had a new name, a new home, and she had no parents. Standing abruptly, Celaena stepped away from the piano, pursing her lips in a desperate attempt to hold it together. She would not break down, not in front of Sam. Never in front of Sam. "I should go to bed. Thank you for the lesson." She forced the words out, practically fleeing from the room, as she made her way through the guild, leaving Sam behind her. When she made it to her room, she pushed the door closed behind her, and made two steps into the room, before she broke down, sinking to her knees, trying desperately to smother her sobs as they wracked through her. She would never let herself remember again. It felt as though her heart was shattering all over again.

. . .

Sam watched as she ran from the room, her face closed off, so different than it had been only moments before. He had been shocked when he had awoken, hearing curses coming from the library. No one else in the guild would be so foul mouthed over the piano. No one else would have been playing piano at three in the morning for the matter. When he had walked into the room, he had recognised the piece she was trying to play, despite her lack of success, and thought back to when he had been taught it as a child. As he watched her stumble through the notes, he wanted nothing more than to help her. He didn't know where this sudden urge came from, but he knew he had to help. Or try to help. And so, he had spoken to her. It hadn't been until she had pushed her way out of the room that he had realised teasing had not been the way to go. Not tonight anyway. And so he had begun to play. And she had accepted his help. They must have been playing for nearly an hour, but he didn't care. She was a good student and he enjoyed teaching. It was just his love of the piano, he told himself. You aren't enjoying spending time with Celaena. Still, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that was the truth, he found himself smiling. Worse, he found himself longing to tuck the long golden strand of hair behind her ear.

He had been so engrossed in his own thoughts it had taken a moment to register that she had moved. So fast, she had moved across the room, staring at the piano like it was causing her pain. Her expression was cold, blank, but her eyes were so full of emotion that he couldn't distinguish one from another. "I should go to bed. Thank you for the lesson." Her voice was shaking, but he didn't have time to ask before she turned on her heel and ran. What had just happened? Had he done something wrong? Sam sat for a moment, staring after her. She seemed rattled. He had never seen Celaena like that in all the years he had known her. It was like her mask had slipped just a little. Standing from the piano, he closed the lid, and made his way out of the room, returning to his bedroom. It was smaller than most, but he knew Arobynn didn't like him much, so he understood. There was a clear hierarchy at the guild, and Sam knew he was near the bottom. He wasn't sure he minded so much anymore. He hated what he did. Hated killing people. But he stayed, because he had no way out.

Sam lay in bed for ten minutes, staring out of the window at the sun rising on Rifthold. He couldn't get the image of Celaena running from the library out of his head, and he would not allow her to be the reason that he couldn't sleep. That was the only reason, he told himself, the only reason that he was going to check if she was all right. He almost turned back when he neared her bedroom door, pausing. She was probably asleep. She didn't want disturbing. Not by him. She hated him. He hated her. And yet…he moved to the door, and lifted his hand to knock. That was when he heard it. The soft sound of sobbing coming from inside her room. It was not like anything he had ever heard before. Celaena's sobs made his gut tighten, and a sharp breath to escape him. She sounded heartbroken. The kind of heartbroken you couldn't fake. Sam wanted to burst in and take her in his arms whilst she cried. But he couldn't do that. Yet he would not leave her alone. He couldn't bring himself to walk away. And so he sank to his knees, resting his back against the door, and listening to her cry, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he listened.

. . .

At some point, Celaena had fallen asleep on the floor. She could feel the tears dried on her cheeks. She wanted to go to bed, but she felt herself walking over to her bedroom door and opening it. Nothing was there. She wondered why that confused her. Giving up, Celaena clicked the door closed, and made her way to bed, collapsing in the soft sheets, sleeping through the day.


	12. Chapter 12

**hello! wow, it has been a while, but I am back. i have planned a lot more of this story and am really excited to get properly into it again, and this is largely due to so many brilliant and encouraging reviews i have** **received, notably from** THGHPTVD.2 **and Bea. reviews mean so much to me, so PLEASE keep writing them, because they are honestly one of my favourite parts of the fanfic community. i hope you like this next chapter, because i enjoyed writing it :)))**

 **. . .**

Two weeks later, Celaena stood in Arobynn's office, fighting the urge to tap her foot as she waited for him to look up from his paperwork. She had been stood waiting for five minutes, listening to nothing but the occasional rustle of paper and scratch of his pen stroke, but she knew this was Arobynn's way. Even if it had been him who had summoned her. She had come straight from training, and was painfully aware of the blood on her upper lip where her nose had bled after a fight with Ben. She was getting closer, inching closer, but never winning. Still it was some of the best training she got. And she preferred that to when he made her fight with Sam as he watched. She won. Usually. Still, she didn't like to train with him. Even if it was inevitable; they were the only assassins in the keep near each other's age, and still training in the manner that they did. She wished Arobynn would get to the point so that she could return to training or her room. She was in the middle of a good book, and determined to finish it by the end of the day.

Finally, he looked up to her.

"Celaena." He greeted her with a nod, standing from his seat and making his way around the desk, resting on the other side of it, taking her in.

"Arobynn." She returned his greeting, bowing her head briefly. He paused again, examining her for a moment.

"I trust today's training is going well." She fought the urge to frown. She could never be sure what role Arobynn was to play in her life, and when he spoke like this it was almost as though he cared.

"It is." She kept her answers short. Arobynn did not want her to waste his time. She had learnt this.

"And your current assignment?" She was currently tailing one of Arobynn's old colleagues, who had not been entirely a friend to the King of Assassins.

"I have his schedule perfectly sorted. If anything changes, or strays, I will know about it." He gave her an appraising look, and she smiled arrogantly at the achievement. She knew her tracking was getting good. Possibly the best in the Keep. She could shadow anyone she wanted, and the rooftops of this city were well known to Celeana, allowing her to travel unseen, looking down on everything.

Her current assignment, though easy to track, was more confusing than most. His own schedule was nothing out of the ordinary, even his attendance of the brothels regular and predictable, where the targets tended to be more erratic in their appearances in Rifthold's sleazy underbelly. The only confusion came from Arobynn's instructions; she had been following De Poitiers for two weeks, and yet had been given no further instruction. Arobynn's pondering expression told her that this could be about to change.

"You are aware of the arrival of the military league occurring this weekend," Arobynn said, watching her carefully. Celaena swallowed her feelings, keeping her face in the mask she had learned to carefully maintain around the King of the Assassins.

"Of course," she replied, betraying none of her disgust, thinking about the festivities that would occur. The legion that was coming to Rifthold was one she was familiar with, hearing how they had eliminated rebel leagues in Teressan, along with their reputations on the battlefield. There would be parade as they rode into the city and made their way to the glass palace, with banners and cheering crowds. Celaena had ever intention of staying in her room and reading, or working out in the training room. Arobynn, it seemed, had other plans for her.

"De Poitiers will be there." He stated, and she nodded in confirmation. She knew he would be attending one of the elite gambling groups that had used the festivities as a guise for their meeting. "I want him gone before he ever gets to his intended plans." Arobynn's statement told her something bigger was going on at that gambling group, but it was not her place to ask questions. It was her role to carry out the task she had been set, and take out the man she had been preparing to set out. Neither of them spoke for a moment, and Celaena made to leave.

"Anything else?" She asked and he shook his head, waving a hand to dismiss her. As she got to the door, however, his voice stopped her.

"Take Sam with you," he ordered her, and she stopped for a moment, stiffening. She wanted to fight back, ask what she was being punished for – Arobynn knew there was no love lost between her and Sam. But she bit her tongue. Once again, it was not her place. And so she left the room, making her way to her chambers, not in the mood to return to the training room, instead intent to lose herself in her book and forget all about De Poitiers and Arobynn and Sam for at least a few hours.

That weekend, Celaena stood in front of her mirror, frowning. They were going to have to blend in, if they planned to travel through the streets unnoticed, and with the festivities, she knew people would look nice, celebratory. And so she made an effort. She wore her normal loose fitting trousers, and white cloth shirt, under which, she could feel her knives strapped tightly to her body, like a second skin. Over this, however, she pulled on her prized green waistcoat. It was only a piece of clothing, and nothing in comparison to the many gowns she had purchased for herself, but this was different. She remembered spotting it in a market whilst in Melisande, on a mission, and she hadn't been able to stop herself buying it. It was a deep forest green, with an even darker green thread embroidery creating intricate patterns across the seams, of the sun and moon and seasons, and it had made her heart jump slightly when she had put it on, admiring the feminine figure it gave her . Now she slipped it on, fingering the soft fabric, pushing away the thought of exactly why she was wearing this colour. It was the same reason she was wearing her green pumps, with their delicate golden embroidery, and her golden hair down, in waves around her shoulders. Just today, she would fight back in this small way. Fight back against the thing that she detested so much, in a way that no one but she would notice. She hated herself for it, for the meaninglessness of this gesture, but she was unable to keep herself from making the gesture anyway. Stepping away from the mirror, her soft frown remained on her face, and she shook away the feelings that had settled over her. Leaving the waistcoat unfastened, she made her way from her room, and down to the foyer of the Keep, where Sam was waiting for her.

Walking through the streets of Rifthold, Celaena could feel the slight hum of the city. A chance to celebrate, for no reason other than a small parade of soldiers walking up to the grotesque palace that looked over them. She fought to keep the distaste off her face, feeling Sam's gaze on her as they made their way to the main street. Sure that he was as frustrated to be on this mission as she was to have him here, they stayed in silence mostly, Celaena still mulling over the absurdity of the celebrations, whilst Sam was probably wondering about ways to ditch her during the celebrations. Neither of them had spoken about the piano situation from two weeks ago, pretending instead it hadn't happened, and Celaena was grateful to him for that at least. She was determined to forget about the sentimentality that had hit her that night, forcing the evening from her mind, as she had forced away so many memoires before.

As they made their way out onto the main street, Celaena's eyes scanned their surroundings, taking in every face she could, and examining the side streets and alleys, and shadowed corners. This sort of recon was automatic by now, but she wasn't counting on the numbers of the crowd, and was caught in a swell of people, moving slowly up through the city. Looking around her, and realising she had lost Sam, Celaena sighed. She had known this would be easier from the rooftops, but Sam had given some bullshit excuse about wanting to experience the parade properly. She don't know why she had given in, when his real reason was that he couldn't move across the rooftops as well as her, but now here they were, on the ground, separated, and with no clear sight of De Poitiers. Breaking slightly away from the crowd, Celaena scanned for a head of brown hair, but she was only fourteen, and not tall enough to see through this crowd to find her partner.

"Oh this is ridiculous," she muttered to herself, and made her way to the nearest alley, quickly scaling the stone wall of the building, as easily as if there were footholds for her. Settling onto her stomach, she peered over the edge of the rooftop, smiling at the viewpoint she had, taking in the crowd below. Still though, she could not spot Sam amongst them, and she shifted slightly, leaning further out over the edge. A hand on her shoulder shoved her forwards, and her stomach lurched as she steadied herself, preventing a nasty fall off the roof, immediately going on the defensive, swinging over onto her back, her leg swinging around to knock over her opponent. Her ankle was deftly caught, however, and she blinked, squinting as a familiar face blocked the sun.

Exclaiming, Celaena glared up at Sam's grinning face. "What the hell are you doing?" She demanded, and his grin only grew, still stood over her. "You could have chucked me into a street full of people." Sam just scoffed at that.

"You're hold was clearly too good for that to happen," he said, matter of factly. "I was just trying to find you in the crowd and was looking for a better vantage point." Her frown deepened, knowing it was pointless to argue that she had favoured the rooftop approach from the beginning. He looked out towards the glass castle, squinting slightly in the bright day. "I think we should make out way over to the palace. The prince is supposed to meet the legion there, and De Poitiers in bound to want to have the best view." Celaena frowned again, having just thought the same thing, but didn't bother saying this, knowing it would sound petty. She waited for a moment, and then huffed.

"You know, for us to do that, I'm going to need my leg back." Sam looked at her ankle, which he was still holding, as though remembering he was still holding it, and the looked back at her.

"What do you say?" He teased, giving her the smile that she hated, all false charm and amusement and smugness. She growled softly, and he smiled again, acknowledging that getting her to say please was not going to happen, and let go of her leg. Standing up and dusting herself off, Celaena glanced back at the crowds, grateful that all their attention was on the arrival of the legion, since the blazing sun was providing no shadow to hide in. "After you," Sam said, from behind her, and she turned, finding him gesturing towards the rooftops they were about to have to travel across. Most of them were attached, with the occasional slim gap, that they would have to jump, and Celaena made her way to the ledge, ignoring Sam's mocking bow and leaping lithely over the gap, her feet landing securely on the next rooftop. She didn't wait to watch Sam follow, just running across the rooftops, occasionally jumping, feeling his presence close behind her, making her way towards the glass castle, distracted by the soft wind in her hair, and the air beneath her feet when she was allowed to leap, and by the boy who ran behind her.

The young assassins settled down beside each other, their stomachs flat against the flat rooftop they had decided on. Their view was perfect, just in front of the glass castle, where the prince would greet the legion, and as they had anticipated, there was De Poitiers, laughing in the revelry, a girl, who looked nearly as young as Celaena, hanging onto his arm, his attention turning to her every few minutes. There would be no chance to kill him now, before the parade, Celaena knew, despite her previous hopes, and so they had settled to wait, knowing they would have their moment afterwards. For now, all that they could do was watch.

They remained in silence, Celaena's eyes fixed on the moving crowds below, until Sam spoke. "You look nice today," he commented casually, and she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, seeing the blush that crept up his neck. His eyes stayed on the gathering, and she moved her gaze back to the throngs of people as well, before replying.

"Thank you. So do you." It was true, she supposed. Sam always looked nice, his looks not dashing and beautiful, but kind and soft, with a different kind of handsome. She guessed he had one of those faces, trustworthy. It made him a better assassin. Celaena was surprised by how her thoughts had strayed, but slightly grateful for the distraction from what was about to happen, even if that distraction had come in the form of Sam Cortland.

Watching the crowds, their excitement and happiness practically pulsing off them, Celaena felt confused, and she didn't bother to hide it on her face. "Why are all these people here?" She wondered aloud, her words whispered, not adding that they shouldn't be celebrating the battles that brought so much devastation. So much pain. She kept her eyes strained on the crowds, but could feel Sam examining her. She hadn't expected him to respond, but he did.

"I suppose, they like to be celebrate, to feel joy. To forget about some of their normal troubles for the day." Still she didn't look at him, as she mulled over his explanation. Neither of them spoke for a moment, but then Sam turned his head to look at her once more. "Are you saying that if you hadn't been on this mission, you wouldn't have come today?" He was just asking, curiosity in his tone, but Celaena tilted her head slightly, so he couldn't see as much of her face, hiding the emotions she couldn't hide from her eyes.

"No, I would have stayed away. I have no wish to celebrate those who bring war to others." Sam's examining gaze was heavy, and wished he would stop looking at her like that, as if he could see everything about her just by looking at her face. Her mind drifted away from the assassin at her side, however, as she looked up at the glass castle looming over them. It seemed stupid to her, a castle built from glass, its domineering presence bring up feelings of revulsion in her every time she looked at it. Everything it represented, this city that had taken so much from her, made her sick. "I hate this city." Sam didn't react to her words this time, choosing to remain silent, but she knew he was still looking at her.

The sound of cheering distracted them both from their conversation, and Celaena's head snapped back to the street below, her eyes settling on De Poitiers, who hadn't moved, though he was now craning to what was making people in the city call out with such fervour. Celaena followed his gaze, her heart seeming to beat to the same rhythm as the legion marching down the cobbled street, cheers erupting around them. Her eyes flicked between her target, the emergence of a small group of soliders surrounding what was probably the prince, by the palace gates, and the legion making their way through the city. Beside her, she wasn't sure Sam was breathing, and she wondered if it was due to anticipation or worry. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, and she felt the atmosphere in the crowds below building steadily. Then they were in sight. And so close. And Celaena's entire world went cold. Because there, at the front of the legion, was Aedion Ashryver.


	13. Chapter 13

**AHHH! I got so many nice reviews after posting the last chapter, and so many people are excited about Aedion! Thank you so much for all of your support, and don't worry, I fully plan on updating more regularly. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and PLEASE REVIEW!**

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Celaena thought she had forgotten how to breathe. She was frozen on the rooftop, her eyes fixed on the golden hair that matched her own, the grin that she had missed so desperately. Everything in her wanted to go to him, to get off this rooftop and be held in his arms, as she had so many times as a child. This was her best friend, her protector, the boy she had looked up to and loved so much. But no, that wasn't true. Aedion was all of those things to Aelin, and that wasn't who she was anymore. Aelin had died a long time ago, in a forest the dark queen had sent her back to. Now, she was an assassin, who had done things that made her sick. And there he was, a general to one of the King of Ardalan's legions. Gods above, what had the pair of them become? She felt sick, but pushed back the nausea, digging her nails into her palms, in some attempt to ground herself. She couldn't move, she couldn't speak. All she wanted was to give in to the urge telling her to yell out to him, to draw his attention, and feel his embrace. But she couldn't. And so she just watched. She watched as he rode, grinning out into the streets of people cheering, laughing at something one of the men behind him had said. She watched as Aedion's gaze moved to the dark haired prince, not visible in front of his guards, and his grin changed, something deeper there, like malice and restrained emotions. After all this time, she could still read him so well. There were words exchanged, words she couldn't hear, and then he was gone, lead away into the castle she had always detested so much.

It felt like all the air had been knocked out of her.

"Celaena?" Sam's voice broke through her relentless stream of thoughts, and she remembered his presence, turning quickly on the rooftop, holding a knee to her chest, and facing away from him. She breathed, trying to slow the racing of her heart, and push away the tears that pricked in her eyes. Everything she had pushed away, tried to forget…her heart felt like it was breaking all over again at the reminder of the life she had lost, the life that she could never get back. She didn't want it back, she insisted, but the face of her cousin lingered in her thoughts, telling her otherwise. Sam didn't speak for a minute, as though giving her the space to sort out her thoughts, and she wished she could just be grateful for that, but resentment bubbled in her, just for his presence when this had happened.

Once she was pretty sure she wasn't about to fall apart, she turned back, not looking to Sam's concerned expression, her eyes skimming the crowd before them once more.

"De Poitiers is moving," she said, and beside her, she felt Sam's gaze move off her, and towards where De Poitiers was heading into a back alley on the other side of the street.

"Let's go." Celaena didn't hesitate following Sam off the roof of the building, avoiding looking at the glass castle as they pushed their way through the crowds, making their way across the street, to the alley where the target had disappeared. She hated her job, and what she was, but she couldn't deny that right now, killing someone was seeming pretty appealing.

The sound of her heart beating in her chest was so loud, Celaena kept glancing over to Sam to make sure he couldn't hear it. They followed De Poitiers down the side alley, keeping their distance, but not skulking in the shadows – they had both long since learned that the best way to get away with something was act like they had every right to be doing it. He still had the girl on his arm, and was laughing loudly as he made his way further and further into the city. As he turned down another side alley, this one with rooves that jutted out over the street, providing a shade from the afternoon sun, Sam nodded to Celaena, and she nodded back, but her mind was still whirring, her attention not on the man and his girl in the street, but rather on a general somewhere in the glass palace she despised so much. It should have been quick, and simple knife aimed at the perfect spot in the back. It should have been easy, caused no fuss. And had she not just seen a man she had spent years trying to forget, it would have been. But the second the knife flew from her hand, it went wrong. Her grip slipped, the blade released a moment too early, and it whizzed through the air, embedding itself in the back of De Poitier's leg, earning a howl from the man. Celaena was too shocked to do anything for a moment, but Sam's sentiment from beside her snapped her out of her reverie. "Shit."

They would have been fine, if it hadn't been for that scream. Another well aimed knife and it would have been done, but it wasn't fine, because the pair of assassins had not accounted for the proximity to the very gambling game their target had been going to attend, and the guards who had been hovering inside now rushed out to examine the cause of the commotion. Celaena and Sam, stood at the end of the alley, felt the moment that the attention turned to them, and should have run, could have run. But their target remained alive, their job unfinished. And so they would fight.

Celaena didn't wait to see what Sam would do before running straight towards the guards, slipping between them as they tried to reach out to catch her. They had had the same training, and she knew exactly what Sam would do, and what she needed to do. She ran straight for De Poitiers, who had seen them and turned, as if to run, but Celaena was there too fast, and she slipped a knife down her sleeve, gripping it in her hand. Reaching him in a matter of moment, she aimed a swift kick on the back of his shin in the exact spot that caused him to fall to his knees in front of her, and she wasted no time. No hesitation before the kill she had been trained to make, and she yanked his head up by his hair with one hand, using the other hand to drag the knife across his neck.

De Poitier's hands moved to his throat, as though he could push the blood back inside his body, and Celaena stepped back, letting go of his hair, watching him slump to the floor, his life draining out of him. Her heart was still beating wildly in her chest, and she swallowed the bile that rose in her throat as she saw his body, and the bloody knife in her hand. She didn't have time for that now, though, and she wiped the knife on her trousers, looking around for Sam. The two personal guards had been dealt with swiftly, both lying in the cobbled street, behind her, and Sam had approached the girl, now curled up against the wall, his words quiet and soft. Celaena looked away, the sound of her blood pumping in her ears drowning out Sam's reassurances that they wouldn't hurt the girl.

Leaning down to yank the other knife where it remained embedded in the back of De Poitier's leg, Celaena didn't hear the door from which the two personal guards had appeared open, her mind too full to realise what was happening until she was pressed against the wall. The man leering over her seemed about to attack when he registered her appearance, her youth and beauty, and what had been violence in his eyes turned to hunger. Celaena fought the urge to spit in the bastard's face, gripping the knife she held in her hand tighter, waiting for the perfect moment to slip it between his ribs. She didn't have to wait a moment more, however, because just as the guard's hand wandered to her leg, grazing up her thigh, he stopped dead, a gurgle coming from his throat before he slumped over her and onto the street.

Stepping away, Celaena looked to see the knife embedded in his back, Sam stood in front of her, a look of fury of his face. She would deal with that later, and her own anger broiling in her, but both of them realised that this was not the best place to do this, their eyes flicking to the door. They didn't speak before making their way quickly out of the alley, sticking to the shadows completely this time, largely due to the large blood stain on Celaena's front where Sam had impaled the man stood over her. They made their way through the city, taking the shadier route, where no one would notice two teenagers sneaking through the shadows, one covered in blood. It wasn't safe to stop, not before they got to the keep, and so they didn't, despite their building emotions, making their way straight back to the Assassin's Keep, not pausing until the door had closed behind them.

Celaena whirled on Sam, letting her anger show, glaring at him.

"What the hell was that?" She hissed, and he glared right back.

"I don't know, I was going to ask you the same question."

"I could have dealt with it myself, and I could have done it without covering my best jacket in blood." He knew she was talking about the man stood over her, but he didn't hesitate to retort, despite the contempt in her tone.

"Well, sorry, next time I'll just let the random guard wipe his hands all over you, and not try to save you." His sarcasm made her even angrier, but he didn't pause long enough to let her interrupt. "Besides, there wouldn't have been anything to deal with if you hadn't missed your aim. It should have been quick, easy, and as much as I hate to admit it, you never miss. So what the hell happened?" Celaena's jaw clenched, and she pushed away images of the golden haired general, and everything that damned parade had forced her to remember. She had no retort for Sam this time, but her eyes narrowed and she glared at him.

"I don't need saving," she said, and turned on her heel, making her way to the washing room, shrugging off her waistcoat, desperate to get the blood out, and fight back the images that her statement brought up. Because she had needed saving once, and it had left her entirely at the mercy of another. Now, she vowed to never let herself be put in that position again, and she stormed through the keep, anger still very much present.

An hour later, Celaena was still in the washing room, scrubbing her waistcoat vigorously, trying not to let her thoughts wander too much. She was failing. So engrossed in her own thoughts was she, that she jumped when the voice came from behind her.

"Is it going to come out?" Celaena whipped her head around to find Sam leaning against the doorframe, looking down at her, his expression carefully guarded. She looked back to the jacket.

"Probably not, but at least this way I have something to take my annoyance out on without injuring anyone in the Keep." Sam chuckled softly, but Celaena just returned to scrubbing the garment, not looking at him. Neither spoke for a minute, but Sam remained in the doorway, watching her. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft.

"I shouldn't have implied that you needed saving," he conceded, not an apology, just an acknowledgment of his mistake.

"I shouldn't have missed," Celaena said, not turning to look at him, but slowing her scrubbing. Sam didn't respond, both of them opting to remain quiet. After another minute, Sam spoke again, his tone hesitant.

"Are you alright?" She didn't answer, but stopped scrubbing entirely. "At the parade today…" He didn't finish the sentence, and she was grateful he didn't, steadying her breathing, not looking at him. After a minute, she heard him make to leave.

"Sam," she stopped him, and heard him pause. "Thank you," she whispered, and Sam didn't say anything, but she heard him leave the doorway. She wasn't sure what she meant, whether it was asking if she was alright, or killing the man stood over her in the alley. Celaena Sardothian and Sam Cortland were not friends. They were not even allies. But Celaena was glad that she hadn't been alone that day. Giving up on the jacket, she rung it out, heading though the Keep and back to her room.

That night, Celaena lay in bed awake, her mind too busy to sleep. Somewhere in this city, the only family she had left was asleep, and she could go to him. But she wouldn't. There were reasons she stayed away, and she repeated them to herself, like a mantra, refusing to let herself slip up. But the main reason that she would not go was not fear of a dark queen, or to protect the people she would be surely damning by going back, but for the most selfish reason. It was because that was not her anymore. She had a new name, a new life, and even if it was one she hated, it was hers. This was who she was, and she was completely different. That was why she stayed away, why she would always stay away. She could never be that person again. Even if she longed to be. When she finally got to sleep that night, her thoughts lingered on the man, sleeping in the glass castle, who shared her hair and eyes. The other side to her coin.

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 **Eech, please don't kill me for not having her go to Aedion. So many people were excited for their interaction, but I've got plans for Aelin before she can reunite with him. Don't worry, all of your favourite character will be coming back soon, but there are so many parts of Celaena's story that need telling to make her ready for that, or she won't be the woman we love so much. PLEASE REVIEW to encourage me to write!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Ahhh! Another time jump! I feel like I haven't done one for a little while, but I really want to get to a certain reunion that you guys are so excited about, and for that to happen, she needs to be older. The next couple of chapters are going to be elements of the story that we didn't get to see from TAB, that are naturally a bit different, due to the start of this story, so I hope that you enjoy! Please REVIEW and tell me what you think of the chapter.**

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 **TWO YEARS LATER**

Celaena's teeth were still gritted as she slipped through the streets of Rifthold, her dark clothes making her little more than a shadow in the night. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest, and she honed all her rage into a silent, killing calm, daggers palmed already. She wouldn't think past this evening, think past the mission she had set herself. Because if she let herself, then she would break down in the middle of Rifthold, and it would all be for nothing. Every part of her had to remain focussed on this. Afterwards, she would let herself think. Let herself grieve. Right now, all she needed to do was retrieve Ben's body. To bring her friend back home.

When she reached the palace gates, she knew she was close. She could hear the march of the palace guards, could feel the tension in the air, and she could nearly smell the blood. Sam had suggested that they couldn't do it, couldn't get him back, but that wasn't an option for her. Ardalan's Assassin, that was what they called her, and now was the time to live up to her title. Now, she needed it, more than ever. And so she would use those skills, and she would do what the others couldn't. Edging closer to the scene, Celaena turned her head enough so that she could see what was going on. There were only five guards, each with swords, standing around something that Celaena couldn't see, but she knew what it was. Ben's body. Vomit rose in her throat, but she swallowed it, clenching her jaw. She could do this, even if it meant killing every single guard. Though, it would be nice to avoid. Glancing at the surrounding streets, Celaena recognised the tavern she herself had spent some time in, and saw her opportunity, clear as day. Sneaking through the shadows, she knew what she had to do. Just create a little bit of chaos, enough to attract attention. She was good at that. And so, picking up a stone from the cobbled streets below, Celaena didn't hesitate before throwing it straight through the glass window of the rowdy tavern, not waiting to see what would ensue. She knew what a little disruption could do in a place like that, and the moment the glass smashed, she heard cries emerging, yells coming from inside. Pressing herself back against the wall, Celaena watched the clamour gain the attention of the guards, and after a few hushed words, two of them made their way away from the group, and towards the street Celaena had just ducked out of. And Ardalan's Assassin saw her opportunity. And she struck.

Celaena didn't give herself time to be impressed with herself as her gaze skimmed over the three, newly unconscious guards, turning all her attention instead to the body at her feet. It felt like all the breath had been knocked out of her body as she took in the only kind man she had encountered in so long. He had been like family to her, not to the girl who had lost her own family, but to the assassin who barely knew what it meant. He had been kind, and gentle and funny, and now he was dead at her feet, no smile on his handsome face, no life in his body. She didn't let herself look at where he had been impaled, or at the dark stain spreading across his chest. Her eyes remained fixed on his face, and she wondered if she would just stay there with him, waiting to see if he might wake up, rolling his eyes at her for worrying. But no sound came from his lifeless form, and the clamour in the tavern behind her was dying down. Her mission was not over, and she would not stop until she had completed it, and so she bent down, and as delicately as she could, pulled his body into her arms, his weight pulling on her as she stood once more, the large assassin in her arms. For anyone weaker, it would have been impossible, but her training was thorough, and she pushed away the thought that it was the very man in her arms who had trained her to make this strength possible. She pushed away all thoughts, but the promise she had made the assassins in the Guild. That she would retrieve his body. And so she would.

Making her way back to the Guild, Celaena walked slowly, keeping to the shadows, eyes refusing to look at the man in her arms.

The sun had risen by the time Celaena was back in her bedroom, having deposited Ben's body in the dungeons below the guild, not speaking to any of the people who had watched her with a mixture of hatred and awe. She left his body there, for Arobynn to deal with, to pay respect to, and turned away without saying anything. The man who had cared for her was not there anymore, and there was nothing left for her in those dungeons. Stripping off her clothes, she washed slowly, closing her eyes as she saw the blood on her hands, from where she had gripped Ben's body, swirling down the drain, a sight she thought she had become immune to after the years of killing. After realising that continuing to scrub down at her skin would not remove the feelings within her, she walked out of her bathing room, slipping on a short lacy nightdress, and pulling her arms into her crimson silk dressing gown, the same one she had deposited on the floor when she had left to retrieve the body.

Unwilling to crawl back into her bed and wallow in her emotions, she instead made her way to the window, sitting down at the window seat, and staring out at the city, but not really seeing it. She remembered sitting here years ago, when she was just 11, waiting for a life that was no longer hers, and hadn't been hers for a while. Her conversation with Ben came back to her, and she clung to his words, trying to remember every kind word he had uttered to her, wrapping them around her, as though they would protect her from her own grief. Her life was not miserable, because then there would not be point in living it, but it was not happy. She had found ways to keep her life from being miserable, had found lights in the darkness. Her luxuries, her books, her strength. And Ben. Ben had been one of those lights, one of the things that reminded her that her life was not all bad. That things could always be worse. And now they were worse. Because, just like that, Ben's life had flickered out. And she didn't even know how to grieve him.

Resting her head on her knees, Celaena's gaze remained fixed on the outside world, and another part of her conversation with Ben at this window came back to her. Now he was dead, would anyone think or know to tell the best friend he had left behind? The girl that Ben had so clearly loved, now a woman. Would she even care? Ben had told Celaena once not to wait too long at the window, because the people they waited for never came. Perhaps the idea that someone in the outside world would still care, after all this time, after what they had done, and become…A sole tear rolled down Celaena's cheek, and she closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling over her. But she didn't want to sleep, because if she fell asleep then she would have to wake up. And that meant facing a world without her friend. If she could just stay at this window, perhaps she could pretend to herself just a little longer. Then again, she had long ago lost any notion that pretending something was not so would make it that way.

Her mind was so lost in emotion and grief and confusion that Celaena didn't hear someone approaching her until they were a few steps away. For a moment, she let herself believe it was Ben, coming to tell her not to waste time grieving and to get back to her missions. But it wasn't; the footsteps were not heavy enough. And yet, it was familiar enough that she didn't bother to turn her head from the window to protect herself. "What can I do for you, Sam Cortland?" Even she was surprised at the tone in her voice, almost indistinguishable from the assassin who had walked into Arobynn's office that morning, arrogant and unaffected, no grief in it. The footsteps stopped, and he didn't speak for a moment. The usual weight of his evaluating stare barely bothered her, and she just longed for him to leave her to her own mind, unpleasant as her thoughts were.

"You got his body back." She didn't know if he was just trying to start conversation, or was building up to some biting remark, but she didn't care. She was too tired for this right now.

"Yes, well, since you seem to be unable to do your job, I am cursed to have to spend my time picking up the slack." Still, she didn't turn to see the reaction to her cutting remark, just keeping her eyes on the approaching morning, and the city awakening.

Sam stayed quiet for a time, and she wondered absently if he had left. She hoped so; she was too tired to taunt him this morning. Could he never just leave her alone? His disgust of her would have made it slightly easier, she would have thought, to stay away. But here he was, again. And he had not left. She could still hear him breathing behind her. Eager to limit their interaction, she turned to him, swinging her legs around so that she was sat, her bare feet on the cold floor, looking up at him from the window seat, every ounce of frustration she could muster in her cold expression. "What do you want?" He didn't flinch back from her venom, or her expression, his eyes searching over her face, scrutinising, in the very way she hated, like we way trying to find cracks in the mask. When his eyes returned to hers, she couldn't read the emotion in his eyes.

"I came to apoligise."

She hunted for the falsehood in his words, but the sincerity rung out. It almost made it worse. Standing, she stalked across her room, feeling his eyes following her, and wrapping her gown around her, feeling bare, exposed, and not because of the clothes she wore. Unable to face him, she straightened up, pulling her shoulders back, trying to retain some semblance of control over herself.

"Why?" She bit out the word, and Sam did not pause to supply him answer.

"Because I saw how you looked when Arobynn told you." The answer was worse than anything he could have said, and she whirled on him.

"I don't want your pity. I don't want your apologies." She hissed the last word, as though it was dirty to her, and anger flashed in her eyes. Sam stood his ground, cocking his head as he looked at her, frowning slightly.

"Vulnerability is not a weakness, Celaena."

"Yes, it is," she insisted. She would know. "Being vulnerable is always a weakness. Loving is always a weakness." She could hear how she sounded, and she looked away, not wanting to further evidence of Sam Cortland's pity for her in his eyes. She was strong, and she would never be weak again. She couldn't be.

He did not respond to that last comment. The room seemed to simmer, tension and anger in the air between them, and she wondered which of them would break first.

"I didn't come to fight." Celaena looked back to him, then, reading the frustration in his own eyes, very familiar with that particular emotion being directed at her. "But you make everything so…" he didn't finish the sentence, which was wise of him, but his voice continued to rise in annoyance. "I know, I should have gotten his body back, I know that he would have done it for me, and I wish I had done it, had pushed past the impracticalities. Despite the monster you believe me to be…"

"No," she interrupted, her voice quiet and detached, compared to his infuriated tone. He looked at her questioningly. "Not a monster. I would never call you that." Involuntary images of yelling librarians, and burning books returned to her, memories of fear of herself, of what she thought she was becoming, and she pushed them away, instead looking at Sam, who looked conflicted now. As if some channel between them, of communication, had opened, her words closed it, and Sam's expression returned to the cold one that she could not read, but was so familiar with.

"I just wanted to apoligise for your loss." She flinched away from the word loss, a stark reminder of the pain brewing within her, and before she could say anything else, Sam stalked from the room, not looking back.

Exhaling sharply, Celaena dragged her eyes away from the doorway, and moved back to the window seat, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. She needed time, to think, to try and understand this. And so she curled her knees up to her chest once more, and for the first time in years, allowed herself to feel like the child she still was, giving her time to the man, and friend, who had told her not to wait too long for anyone. For him, she would wait a little while longer.

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 **Please REVIEW and let me know what you think! It means everything to me, and I love to know where everyone wants this story to go. Have a good day :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Ahh, so this chapter might not be any good. I wrote it pretty fast in the middle of the night. But I was struck with inspiration, and I've been waiting for it for a while so I figured I would just bash it out. I really hope you enjoy this Samlaena content and a few references to the past that she mostly pushes away. I love writing this story, and I hope you love reading it. Please REVIEW and let me know what you think. :)))**

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Celaena clutched the edge of the boat, cherishing the freedom of the sea salt she could taste in the air, and the wind whipping around her. She loved the wind; it was wild and soothing at the same time, strong and gentle simultaneously. It reminded her of people long gone, people that she didn't let herself think about. They had been travelling for a few days, and she knew there were many more to come, but it didn't stop the dread gnawing on her gut that seemed to grow as they neared Ardalan. Skull's Bay had been…not what she had imagined. But she was glad they had been sent there. Glad she had been able to help those people who would have been sold into slavery, glad that she and Sam had become, if not quite friends, then allies, and glad that she had tasted freedom, rebellion. Celaena knew she was a wild individual, a young woman of adventure and will, but these years with Arobynn, so much of her had been stifled. Including that freedom. There would be consequences, she would be stupid to think that there wouldn't be, but she had known that when she had done it. And she had still done it. It felt good. Despite the suffering it would bring her, despite the fact that it changed _nothing._ She was still the same person, the person who had done despicable things to feel safe, had become despicable things. But maybe she was a little bit of something else as well. Maybe she was a little bit brave.

The figure approaching her was identifiable by his familiar footsteps, and Celaena was almost surprised by herself that she didn't tense up. Everything that had happened, all the years of training, and she still tensed when people came up behind her. But not Sam. She tried not to think too long about what that meant. "Are you thinking about what he's going to do to us?" Not moving her eyes from the horizon, she felt him settle beside her, staring out over the choppy ocean.

"Yes, I was," she admitted, no shame, just brutal honesty. "It doesn't matter though," she added, "whatever it is, whatever he does to me, it will be worth it."

"It will," he agreed. "Celaena," his voice became quieter and she frowned a little at the shift in tone. "May I ask you a question?"

"No," she replied immediately, and he seemed to study her expression for a moment, before letting out a low breathy laugh, reading the humour in her face. It surprised her that he could read her so easily. Then again, they had been enemies for years; they were accustomed to each other.

"When you saw those slaves, when Rolfe presented them to us, you looked…" He trailed off, as though not quite sure how to finish his sentence, and all humour had left Celaena's own expression now, tense and masked. She paused, trying to find the right words, the right anything.

"So did you." She remembered the horror in his eyes, undetectable to the Captain, as they had examined the true intention behind Arobynn's mission for them. The disgust for what they were involved in.

"I was horrified. Sickened." She felt him glance to her, pausing before continuing, as though wondering how far this new friendship allowed him to push. "But the way you looked at them, with recognition. With remembrance." Neither of them spoke, letting the words settling over them, the implication behind the sentences. He was pushing, not because he was nosy, or because he wanted to push her buttons, but because he genuinely cared. It shocked her, her changed perception of Sam. They had grown up together, and before this point, it had been hate. She thought it had been hate. At least, it had been disliking. But now, it was like they had been friends this whole time. Like everything they had been through together was spun into a new angle. She wasn't sure if she liked it. The confusion that came with this level of tolerance. She didn't know how to handle liking Sam, when she had always disliked him. Then again, there were bigger things to think about right now. Like the man waiting for them on the other side of this ocean. Maybe once they reached that man, everything between them would go back to the way it had been. It would certainly be easier. Yet, the thought didn't settle easy within her. Ad so she decided to test this new understanding between them.

"When I was a child, before Arobynn, I was nearly forced to stay somewhere. To be under someone's control, to be viewed as some sort of prize camel, to be exchanged for the right price." Naturally, the price had been a little different, but she wouldn't go into the details. "It wasn't slavery, not even close, but I remember the feeling I got what I understood what was happening. When I realised I might not get a choice. It felt suffocating." Sam didn't move, not an inch, and Celaena didn't look to see his reaction. "It's not why I did what I did. I did that because what was happening was wrong. Because people are not a commodity to be traded and exchanged and sold. They are human beings. But when I saw them, it just reminded me of that feeling." It was the most she had spoken about her past in years. She didn't talk about it. It wasn't her life anymore. She was someone new. But she had discussed it out loud. Granted, it had been vague and closed, but she had done it. Because of Sam. Because part of her trusted this boy beside her.

"Thank you, Celaena," he said after a while, as though he could read her very thoughts of the significance of what she had just done. As though he was honoured she had spoken to him. Properly spoken to him. He murmured something about talking to the Captain, but Celaena's blood was pumping so hard in her ears that she hardly heard him. She just stayed stood, looking over the ocean. And then she grinned. Because she and Sam Courtland were friends. Not allies. They were friends. She had forgotten what that felt like.

. . .

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